


The Academy

by f-ing-ruthless-baz (f_ing_ruthless_baz)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Modern with Bending (Avatar), Anxiety, Competition, Dubious Science, F/F, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29863323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_ing_ruthless_baz/pseuds/f-ing-ruthless-baz
Summary: Katara wants to fit in. Sokka wants to get out. Zuko and Azula want to be the best. And Mai just wants her best friend. At the Academy of Elemental Arts, the students are just trying to find their place, but they might have to accept that it’s not where they expected.AKA, a private/boarding school AU, where people study element bending. Teenage drama ensues.
Relationships: Aang & Katara (Avatar), Azula & Mai & Ty Lee, Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken many liberties with this AU, such as the nature of element bending (anyone can learn it in this world), and how science works, and what the characters are like. Don't take any of this too seriously.
> 
> I will admit that I'm not the best at plotting. I honestly tried my best with this--my outline went through [many phases of development](https://f-ing-ruthless-baz.tumblr.com/post/643316177708449792/half-way-through-phase-three-six-of-twelve)\--but it's still far from perfect. I think it's a fun read, though, and I hope you will too.
> 
> Also, a heads up that, while this fic doesn't really go into depth about mental health issues and anxiety disorders, it's pretty clear that a lot of characters in this story are struggling with these things. A lot of it is drawn from my own struggles. But there is no mention of specifics or treatments or anything, because it's not really within the scope of this fic. Obviously I'm not trying to suggest that the ending of this story has solved all of their problems, though.
> 
> There is title art to go with this fic [on my Tumblr](https://f-ing-ruthless-baz.tumblr.com/post/644841126458769408/katara-wants-to-fit-in-sokka-wants-to-get-out).

“And on your left,” Sokka says, gesturing with sweeping arms at the large wooden double doors next to him, “we have the Central Dining Hall, which has the _best_ food at the Academy.”

Katara blinks at her older brother. “Yes, I know,” she says. “Dad’s shown me around before.”

Their father is an instructor here at the Academy; Katara is already relatively familiar with these halls. But seeing as it’s her first day as an actual student, and Sokka has been here for a _whole year_ already, he’s _clearly_ the all-knowing expert of everything. _Eye-roll._

She had let him take her on a tour of the Water School campus when she got settled in last night, though, and now she’s letting him show her around the Central building, before their first classes. She thinks he might just be doing this because he wants to get to the dining hall before the best food is picked over.

“Yes, but I _know_ things,” Sokka adds. He tries to push one of the doors open for a second before he remembers that it’s a pull door. “I can show you the things you only find out about as a student.”

She follows him inside and they get in line at the serving station. He doesn’t stop talking.

“There’s all sorts of things I can teach you that will make your time here better,” he says. “All sorts of—“

“Please don’t say—”

“— _Life hacks_!”

Katara groans.

“First, see the stacks of plates over there?” he says, pointing. “People always grab from the closest stack on the right, so they replace those ones most frequently.”

“Is it that important to have fresh plates?” she asks skeptically.

“No, no, you want to take plates from the other stack,” he says. “The far one, specifically. The fresh plates are always hot and wet from the dishwasher. It’s gross. The dry plates are at the back.”

“I could just waterbend them dry.” She smirks, and Sokka deflates.

“But… My life hack…”

Katara pats him on the shoulder. “I know, I know.”

When they reach the serving counter, she takes a plate from the far stack, just to appease him, and puts it on her tray. She tries to follow his lead when it comes to getting the actual food, too. She’s been here with their dad before, but there’s something different about being here as a student. Like she doesn’t know what to do or how to act. She doesn’t want to make a wrong move.

Following Sokka’s lead, however, means she ends up with a plate filled with three times as much food as she could possibly eat for breakfast.

She continues following his lead, out to the main dining hall, as he makes a bee-line towards the back. There are plenty of empty tables closer to them, but he’s determined to get one of the far ones. Nearly all the tables back here are empty, except for one a few tables over from where Sokka has set down his tray.

“This corner has the best ventilation without feeling draughty,” he says proudly as he takes a seat.

Katara sits across from him, still looking over at the not-empty table. A kid is sitting all by himself, and when he notices her watching, he smiles sadly. She gets embarrassed and looks down at her plate.

“That kid over there,” she whispers to Sokka, cutting her eyes over in the kid’s direction. “He looks like he’s twelve, right?”

Sokka turns his head to look but she kicks his foot under the table.

“Don’t stare!” she says.

“Alright, alright!” He holds up his hands in defence. More discreetly, he glances over again. “I mean, I dunno. Maybe. Sometimes people can get in early if they’re, like, super-geniuses.”

“If that’s the case, then why didn’t you get in early?” she teases.

“Because,” he says indignantly, “my brilliance is still undiagnosed.”

“Yeah, _that’s_ what’s undiagnosed.”

“I am destined for greater things than the Academy of Elemental Arts, Katara,” he says. “I have endless untapped potential.”

“Of course.”

“Hey.” He jabs his fork towards her. “Element bending isn’t the only thing worth being good at.”

Katara feels guilty for making fun of him. “No, I know,” she says. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Good.” He nods and then tucks in to his meal like he hasn’t eaten in a week. Which she knows is not true.

She picks at the food on her plate a little, but her eyes keep drifting over to the kid at the other table. Alone.

“Do you think he has any friends?” she asks Sokka, leaning in and keeping her voice low.

He frowns, and it seems to take a few seconds for him to realize who she’s talking about. “I doubt it,” he says with a shrug. “It’s the first day, and he’s probably in Year 1. No one has friends on the first day. Except maybe the Fire School kids. They all know each other. It’s so incestuous.”

“Ew, what?”

“No, wait, what’s the word?” he says quickly. “Nepotism! That’s what I meant.”

“Well, we can only afford to go here ‘cause of Dad,” she says. “And you’re only hanging out with me because I’m your sister and you have to. Isn’t that nepotism?”

“Of course not, Katara.” He takes another bite of food and then adds, with his mouth full, “I’m hanging out with you Suki is busy.”

Katara frowns. “I still think it’s a little weird that you’re only friends with your ex-girlfriend.”

“Hey, being friends with exes is cool,” he says, pointing his fork at her again. “It’s very mature and evolved of us.”

“I just meant that she’s, like, literally your only friend. Besides your little sister.”

Sokka’s eyebrows drop. “That is irrelevant.”

“Hey, at least this year you’ll know someone in your Waterbending class,” Katara adds smugly.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

* * *

Everyone is staring at him. He’s sure of it.

Everyone in this class must know that Sokka is a Year 2 student. Taking the Level 1 Waterbending class. Again.

“Come on,” Katara says, nudging him with her elbow to get him to keep moving when he stops at one of the bridges. “It’ll be fine.”

The walk across the Water School arena feels endless to him, except it does end, and suddenly he’s in the middle with all the other Level 1 students, none of whom look nearly as nervous as he feels. Since when are Year 1 students so confident?

Well, there’s one student who looks as out-of-place as he does.

“Sokka,” Katara whisper-yells in his ear. “It’s that kid.”

“I can see that,” he replies, trying not to move his mouth. The kid is looking right at them.

He’s nervously hovering over by one of the other radial bridges that connects the surrounding stadium with the large platform in the centre of the arena. Some of the water from the moat below flies up and splashes over his shoes, and he turns red while other students laugh. He doesn’t even get angry or try to find out who did it, he just lowers his head and hugs his arms over his stomach.

“That is not okay,” Katara says to Sokka quietly, but with an undeniable fierceness in her voice. She stomps over to the kid whose feet are dripping wet, and effortlessly whisks all the water out of his shoes and back into the moat.

It occurs to Sokka, as he trails after her, that she’s probably too advanced for Level 1 classes already.

“Thank you,” the kid says, bowing slightly. Sokka can’t help but laugh, and Katara elbows him in the ribs.

“Don’t worry about them,” she says, glaring over her shoulder at the students who were laughing at him before. They certainly aren’t laughing anymore, now that they’ve seen what Katara can do.

The kid smiles a little.

“I’m Katara,” she adds, turning back to him. She smacks Sokka’s arm with the back of her hand as she gestures to him. “And this is Sokka.”

The kid smiles wider. “I’m Aang,” he says, almost cheerfully. “I’m not actually a Water student.” He adds this, unprompted, like it’s a dark confession. But also one he’s proud of.

“Um, okay…” Katara says.

“I’m in the Air School,” he continues, and Sokka exchanges a skeptical sideways glance with his sister.

“This class is Waterbending, buddy,” Sokka says, and it comes out smarmier than he intended.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m learning all the elements,” Aang says. He gets sheepish all of a sudden. “I, uh, got special permission ‘cause I guess, I’m, like—”

“A super-genius?” Sokka asks, and a grin spreads across Aang’s face.

“I think the word they used is ‘Gifted’, but I like ‘super-genius’ better!”

“Wait, I—” Sokka says, realizing he shouldn’t have just given away one of his favourite words like that, but he stops and sighs in defeat. “Oh, never mind.”

Aang is still smiling, but it fades a little as he squints at them. “You guys look alike…”

“Sokka’s my older brother,” Katara says.

“Older?” Aang asks, and then his face lights up. “Wait, Katara, are you a super-genius too?”

Sokka snorts and Katara elbows him again.

“I’m 14, like most Year 1 students,” she says. “Sokka’s in Year 2.”

“Oh.” Aang’s smile diminishes a bit more as that sinks in. He looks at Sokka. “So you’re…”

“A failure? Yep!” Sokka beams, pretending this is not something that eats him up inside every day.

Aang looks hurt. “I—I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Ignore him,” Katara says, waving her hand dismissively in Sokka’s direction.

“Very nice, Katara.” He pouts over-dramatically.

Aang snickers. “You guys are funny.”

The instructor calls for everyone’s attention, from the centre of the platform, and they all turn towards her.

Sokka can hear Katara whisper something to Aang but he can’t make out what it is, just that it makes Aang snicker again. Because Katara can make a friend on the _first day_ of classes, of course.

Everything is easier for Katara.

* * *

Zuko internally breathes a sigh of relief when his Level 3 Science class begins and no one has claimed the seat next to him. He’ll get a lab bench all to himself for the rest of the term, and he won’t have to be partnered up with some lazy idiot who’ll end up making him do all the work on their assignments anyway. It’s the ideal situation for him.

“We’re going to start the term with a pop quiz,” the instructor says at the front of the room, and everyone groans. “Just to see where we all are, with respect to the curriculum,” she adds, louder. She gives each of the students at the front benches a stack of papers. “Take one and pass them—”

The door by the front of the classroom creaks open, loud enough to interrupt her, and everyone stares at it. Zuko thinks he must have really shitty luck.

Standing in the doorway with a sheepish grin is Sokka, from the Water School. That’s the terrible thing about these general classes, they combine students from all the Schools. They don’t usually combine students from different Years, though…

“You’re late,” the instructor says to him, and he laughs.

“Yes, well, see, I’m actually a very punctual person, normally, but there was this thing with—”

“Please just take a seat.”

“Right. Yes. Good plan. Will do.” He points at her with finger-guns and Zuko wants to dissolve into thin air and float out the window, because the only empty seat left is the one right next to him.

Water School Finger-Guns Sokka is going to have to be his lab partner for the entire term.

It’s bad enough that he’s possibly the most awkward and embarrassing person in the entire Academy, but the only thing more awkward and embarrassing than him, as a person, is the horrible crush Zuko has had on him since last Spring term.

The stupid grin on Sokka’s face disappears when he approaches the bench. He must realize what this means, too. _Yep, we’re stuck with each other. Hur-fucking-rah._

Sokka gives him a curt nod and takes his seat, swinging his school bag off his shoulder and dropping it to the floor between their stools. His arm brushes against Zuko’s sleeve when he does, and Zuko weighs the pros and cons of running straight out the door and never coming back.

He’s hardly ever had an actual conversation with the guy—most of what he knows about him he learned through observation and asking around—so he has no idea what to expect, only that, in their limited interactions, Sokka seemed less than impressed with him.

The stack of quizzes reaches their bench and Sokka appoints himself as the official Quiz Distribution Expert, placing a sheet in front of each of them before passing the rest backward.

“Don’t cheat off me,” Zuko grumbles, pulling his paper in close, and Sokka huffs a laugh.

“Thanks for the tip,” he says.

Once all the quizzes are distributed, the instructor sets a timer and tells them to begin. Zuko tucks himself over his page, angling so that Sokka won’t be able to see his answers, and tries to get his mind to focus on the questions and not on Sokka’s leg incessantly bouncing next to his under the bench. It’s insufferable.

By the time Zuko’s half way through the quiz, he feels Sokka shift beside him, and glances over to see him push his test paper forward and lean back in his seat. He catches Zuko staring, though, and flips his paper over with a smirk.

He can’t actually be finished, can he?

Zuko returns his attention to his own paper and finishes up the quiz a couple minutes before the instructor tells them to put their pencils down. Sokka is leaning forward on the desk with his head on his arms, like he’s fallen asleep, but he sits up when she tells everyone to swap with the person next to them.

Zuko shoves his quiz towards Sokka like he’s bored with all of this, even though he might actually be dying. The thought of his stupid, awkward, embarrassing crush seeing his answers makes him feel sick.

They go over the answers quickly as a class, checking over each other’s papers. Sokka got a perfect score, but Zuko knows there’s at least one of his that he got wrong. _Absolutely mortifying_.

“Good job,” Zuko mutters as he passes Sokka’s quiz back.

“Yeah, you too,” Sokka replies, and Zuko knows it must be condescending, because he didn’t get a perfect score, so he didn’t _actually_ do a good job. Clearly. And Sokka just has to rub it in.

The instructor assigns them their first experiment, and gives them the rest of the class period to work on it. Sokka immediately takes the lead on it, poring over the instructions carefully, tapping his pencil against his head as he reads. Zuko’s never realized how fidgety he is before. Granted, he’s never had to sit next to him before, either.

“How are you in a Level 3 class?” he asks abruptly, and he feels his face flush when Sokka looks up and frowns at him. “I just mean—” he says. “You’re in Year 2, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Sokka replies defensively. Then he adds, with an arrogant smile, “But I’m a super-genius.”

“I see.” Zuko turns his attention to the equipment on their lab bench.

“Well, I mean, I took a test to get fast-tracked,” Sokka adds, leaning in slightly. “But same difference.”

“Right,” Zuko says stiffly, keeping his head lowered to hide how red his face must be by now.

“Oh, hey, sorry, did you want to read this over?” Sokka hands him the sheet with the instructions they were given, and Zuko takes it readily, desperate for something to do besides humiliate himself further.

Normally this sort of assignment would be easy for him, but nothing he reads makes any sense with Sokka staring at him. _Why is he staring like that?_

“Your face looks pretty good,” Sokka says offhandedly, and Zuko freezes. He’s officially reached peak embarrassment for the day. “Wait, sorry, was that insensitive?” Sokka adds quickly. “I just meant, like, the scar isn’t as… Um. Just. I remember seeing it last year, and— I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”

“It’s fine,” Zuko says, lowering his head further. He hates when people mention the scar, but of course Mr. Finger-Guns would have no qualms about bringing it up casually.

Sokka wasn’t even at the Academy yet when it happened, in Zuko’s first year. It was the Vernal Tournament final match and Zuko got burned—accidentally—by one of his teammates. It was his own fault; he wasn’t paying attention. But his father would never let him live it down.

And neither would the scar on his face.

It was pretty bad last year, but it’s gotten better since then. He’s got a treatment balm for it. It’s disgusting but it’s fine. Everything’s fine.

“Ugh, sorry,” Sokka groans, dragging a hand over his face. “It’s that thing where I think I’m saying something nice and I end up being a total jerk—”

“I said it’s fine,” Zuko replies, raising his voice slightly. The people at the next bench glance over at him.

Sokka sits up straighter in his seat and clasps his hands together on the desk in front of him, like he’s trying to keep himself out of trouble. It would be endearing if Zuko weren’t about ready to throw up.

When he finishes reading through the instructions, finally, Zuko slides the page back over to Sokka and waits for him to tell him what to do. Since he assumes that’s what Sokka’s waiting for, too.

He’s not wrong.

Sokka immediately leaps into action, setting up all the equipment on the bench _just so_ , and ordering Zuko around—mostly telling him not to touch anything. He admires his work proudly once everything is where it needs to be, and goes to start the test by turning on the flame. But nothing happens. He turns the dial back and forth, but still nothing.

“Shit,” Sokka mutters to himself. He sticks his face up close to inspect the burner and Zuko yanks him back on instinct.

“You don’t shove your face into _fire_ ,” he hisses.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, there is no fire,” Sokka says. He sits up. “But, I mean… You could change that.”

It takes a second for his words to register. “We’re not supposed to use our _bending_ in general classes,” Zuko whispers harshly.

“Yeah, but who has to know?” Sokka nudges him with his elbow. “Go on. You can do it. Be a rebel. Smash the system.”

“How is vandalizing school property going to smash the system?”

“It’s not vandalism to put fire in a fire thing.”

“‘ _A fire thing.’_ ”

“You know what I mean.” Sokka laughs a little. “Just do your—” He shuts up and sits tall when the instructor comes around to their bench.

“Everything going well here?” she asks, and Sokka grins.

“Super well,” he says. “The well-est.”

She looks like she has no idea how to deal with him either. “Good,” she says slowly, and then moves on to the next students.

He keeps sitting tall until she’s moved on to the next row and then slouches forward, leaning towards Zuko. “Alright, buddy, just— Zap zap.”

“It’s not a _zap_ ,” Zuko grumbles.

“Whatever it is just, you know, do it.”

He tries to look back over his shoulder without moving his head too much, to get an idea of whether or not the instructor can see him, and then lights a small fire below their test beaker.

“Yes!” Sokka exclaims, and everyone turns to look at him. He blushes a little. “Science!” he adds with a fist pump. The second-hand embarrassment rolling off this guy is nausea-inducing; Zuko can’t help but smile a little, though.

Sokka’s hand lands heavily on Zuko’s back when he lowers it, and he leans in to add, with a double-pat, “We make a good team, huh?”

* * *

“How are you liking the Academy so far, Azula?” Ty Lee asks brightly from her spot on the floor of her dorm room, surrounded by throw cushions and stuffed animals. Mai is lying next to her, absently picking at one of the loose threads on a Totoro plushie.

“It’s rather dull, to be honest,” Azula answers, leaning back in Ty Lee’s desk chair like a Skyrim jarl. “None of my classes are a _challenge_ to me.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll get more challenging later in the term!” Ty Lee says. “It’s only the first day.”

Azula sighs. “I’m just so tired of being around Year 1 students all day.”

“But… you’re a Year 1 student.”

“Yes, thank you, I’m aware of that,” she snaps. She’s the youngest of the three of them and doesn’t really appreciate being reminded of that fact.

“Year 1 is the worst,” Mai says without sitting up.

“I liked my first year,” says Ty Lee. “I learned all sort of stuff and made all sorts of friends and—“

“How lovely,” Azula cuts in. “But I’m not here to make friends. My only goal is to score more points in the Trials than anyone at the Academy this year.”

“Of course,” Mai says.

Ty Lee frowns in confusion. “But I thought you pretty much have to be team captain to score the most points.”

“That’s why I’m going to _be_ team captain.” The corner of Azula’s mouth quirks up.

“Year 1 students almost never make captain, though—”

“I have a plan. Obviously.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Mai echoes from the floor. Azula ignores her.

“I’ve spent the summer researching everyone on the Fire School’s team,” she says. “I know exactly which buttons to press to get them to vote for me.”

“Wow,” Ty Lee says, clearly impressed.

“It’s a shame it has to be done this way, really,” Azula says, inspecting her nails casually. “But no one recognizes pure talent and leadership when they see it, anymore. It’s all so political.”

“Totally,” Ty Lee replies, and Mai breathes out a small, derogatory laugh next to her.

“Come on, then,” Azula says as she stands. “We should go hunt some people down. Get the ball rolling.”

“Right now?”

“I can’t afford to wait on this.”

“But I’m kind of tired,” Ty Lee says. “I thought we could all just hang out here tonight.”

Azula glares at her and she makes a puppy dog face. “Fine, sit here all night, for all I care,” she says. She turns her attention to Mai. “Are you coming?”

“Nah,” Mai says. “I think I’m just gonna stay.”

“Right.” Azula’s jaw tenses. “Some friends you are.”

“Azula, wait,” Ty Lee says as Azula heads for the door. “Just hang out with us tonight. You can wait until tomorrow to get political, can’t you?”

“No,” Azula says as she yanks the door open, “I can’t.”

* * *

Ty Lee winces when Azula slams the door shut behind her. “Do you think she’s mad?” she asks, so sincerely that Mai almost wants to laugh.

“She’ll be fine,” Mai tells her. “She just gets like this when she wants something. You know that.”

“Yeah, but…”

“You don’t have to play her games,” she adds, turning her head to look her friend in the eye. Ty Lee smiles down at her and her chest gets tight.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ty Lee says. She moves some of the cushions and settles onto her back, lying at such an angle that her head is tucked up to Mai’s neck. Her hair smells obscenely good.

“Did you like your classes today?” she adds, tilting her head back to try to see Mai.

“Three of our classes were together,” Mai says.

“Yeah, but did you like them?” She can hear the smile in Ty Lee’s voice.

“No,” she says, and Ty Lee laughs, shifting up onto her elbows suddenly to look down at Mai again.

“Oh my gosh, did you see Sokka in our Math class today?”

Mai squints up at her. “The Water School kid?”

Ty Lee nods. “He’s gotten so cute this year, don’t you think?” she says, and Mai wrinkles her nose.

“Ew. No.”

“Come on, with the eyes and that little dimple thing?” Ty Lee pokes her cheek in with her finger.

“No,” Mai repeats. “Besides, he’s in the _Water School_.”

“I know…”

“Also, wasn’t he dating that Earth School girl?”

“I think they broke up,” Ty Lee says. “Actually, she’s pretty cute, too.” Ty Lee flops back down onto the cushions and whines. “There are too many cute people this year!”

“How tragic,” Mai deadpans.

“You know who else is pretty cute this year?” Ty Lee adds, tucking herself closer, which makes Mai blush. Ty Lee angles her head and grins at her. “Zuko.”

“Ugh,” Mai groans.

“Not for _me_ , silly!”

“I know, but still,” she says. “Not interested.”

“So you guys are never getting back together?”

Mai closes her eyes and breathes. “We’re better as friends,” she says. “We’re too…”

“Alike?” Ty Lee says. She props herself on her elbow again and leans over Mai, resting a hand on Mai’s arm. “I just want you to be happy, Mai.”

“I’m never happy,” Mai says as evenly as she can, despite her heartbeat thudding in her chest.

Ty Lee smiles an eye-crinkling smile. “I know, you’re so emo,” she says, and Mai can’t help but snort a laugh.

She’s never like this around other people. Never smiling or laughing or feeling fluttery in her stomach

She kind of hates the way Ty Lee can do this to her.

“Alright, then,” Ty Lee continues, snuggling into the cushions and Mai’s side. “Who do _you_ think is cute this year?”

“No one,” Mai says. “Everyone is hideous to me.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ty Lee says in a singsong voice. “But I guess you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” She bumps Mai’s arm with her knuckles. “You can tell me, though. You can tell me anything.”

 _No,_ Mai thinks. _I can’t._

* * *

The walls in the Water School common room are painted with a deep sea mural that’s been here over twenty-five years, and it’s chipping off in places. Particularly in the spot where Sokka keeps picking at it.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Katara tells him, and he startles, like he’d been completely zoned out. “We’re here to study.”

“Who studies on the first day of classes?” he says. There’s a book lying open on his chest as he sits with his legs hooked over the armrest and back of the chair. Katara doesn’t know how he can sit like that.

“People who care about their education,” she says.

“ _Whomp whomp_.”

“Seriously, am I the only person at this school who cares about this stuff?” She says it louder than she meant to, but after a day of classes with people who only seemed to want to goof off, she’s sick of it.

Sokka sits up a bit straighter—only one leg over the armrest, the other on the floor—and looks at her. “Other people care,” he says, with a patronizing lilt to his voice. “But it’s only the first day. Everyone’s still in summer break mode.”

“I’m not,” she says, and he smiles like he’s trying to hold in a laugh.

“You’re _never_ in summer break mode, Katara.”

“Shut up, I am too,” she argues. “Remember when we went to the beach?”

“And you spent the whole time practicing your waterbending.”

“I _like_ waterbending.”

“I know, but— It’s not the only thing in the world,” Sokka says. “You can just, like, _relax_ sometimes.”

Katara lifts her head indignantly. “I find it relaxing,” she says.

“Really?” He seems surprised.

“Isn’t there anything you enjoy doing just because you’re good at it?” she says. “Like you just get in the flow of something and you stop worrying about anything else.”

“I guess…”

“Well, that’s what waterbending is like for me. I like practicing and getting better and learning everything I can.”

“Okay, yeah, I get that,” Sokka says, nodding. “I mean, obviously I don’t feel that way about _waterbending_ ,” he adds with an awkward chuckle, “but other things. Sure.”

Katara smiles at him. “You’re in Level 3 Science this term, right?” she asks, and his face lights up.

“It is _great_ , Katara,” he tells her animatedly, setting both feet on the floor and leaning forward. His book falls to the ground but he ignores it. “So, like, we had a pop quiz first thing, yeah? And everyone else is like, ‘ _Ugggghhh!’_ Because, I mean, pop quiz, right? But it took me like five minutes, and I’m just sitting there watching everyone else stressing out, and I was just like, _this is my element_. You know?”

“Yeah.” She smiles wider. She loves the way he gets so amped up about this stuff. Solving problems and inventing things and figuring out how things work. Even his ridiculous “life hacks”.

“I mean, you should have seen Zuko’s face,” he continues. “Well, like, not his…” He waves his hand over the left side of his own face. “But I just mean he was so surprised to find out that I actually know my shit, right?”

“Zuko’s in your class?” Katara asks, scrunching up her nose. She’s never met the guy, but Sokka complained about him a lot last year. It was as if every other time they chatted, Sokka just grumbled about something Zuko did during the Trials. He sounds like a real jerk.

“Yeah, I know, but we’re lab partners now, I guess, so—” Sokka shrugs, and then frowns, pointing his finger forward at nothing in particular. “You know, he might be less of a jerk when he’s not in the arena.”

“That would be good, yeah.”

“Oh! That reminds me!” he adds, smacking a hand down on Katara’s shoulder. “Did you sign up for tryouts yet? You are trying out, right? You have to tryout. They need you Katara. The team _needs_ you.”

Katara lowers her head shyly. “I mean, I dunno,” she says. “I’m only in Year 1, so—“

“So what? Year 1 students are allowed to join, and you are definitely skilled enough.”

“You think so?”

Sokka barks a laugh. “You’re better than three quarters of the people on that team,” he says. “If they want a chance of beating the Fire School this year, they need you on the team.”

“I guess I could…” she says slowly. “I just— I kind of just want to, um, lay low this year? Like, I don’t want to draw attention to myself and—”

“I think it’s a little late for that, Katara.”

She looks up at him as her face burns. “What?”

“The way you stood up for that Aang kid in class today,” he says. “I mean, you showed those bullies not to mess with you, but that means they’re paying attention, right?”

“Oh…”

“Plus, befriending the outsider child prodigy isn’t the most _blending in_ thing to do, just saying.”

“Oh…” She looks down at the book in her lap as panic starts to well up inside her.

“But don’t worry about that,” Sokka adds, softer. “You have to be true to yourself, Katara. And you are someone who doesn’t stand by and let injustice happen. You use your strengths to help people, and you should own that.”

“Right…”

“Seriously, who cares about drawing attention or not.” He leans back in his seat again. “At the end of the day, the only person whose opinion of you matters is you.”

Katara nods timidly, but the anxiety knots in her stomach. She doesn’t want to care what other people think, not really. But she’s been called a show-off enough for one lifetime. She thought the Academy would be a fresh start for her. Hardly anyone knows her here. She has a chance to be normal. To be average.

But now she doesn’t know if that’s even possible.

“Hey, are you gonna finish that?”

She blinks up and stares at her brother blankly for a moment before she realizes that he’s asking about the small bag of chips on the table next to her. “Oh, uh, no. Here.” She hands him the packet and he immediately swings his legs back over the chair. He sighs happily.

“I mean it, Katara,” he adds, jabbing a chip in her direction. “You’ll have a much easier time here if you just accept your place. Nerd power, my friend.”

She forces an awkward laugh and tucks her knees up to bury her face in her book. She knows she probably shouldn’t have her shoes on the seat of the chair, but everyone else is doing it. Maybe she _can_ be just like everyone else.

Maybe she can disappear.


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone is staring at him. Well, at him and the person with him. Because not many Water School students have the nerve to bring a Fire School student to their hall.

Sokka smiles awkwardly as he passes people he barely knows, who give him skeptical looks on his way to his dorm room. He glances back over his shoulder to find Zuko with his head hunched down, like he’s trying to hide. It’s low-key hilarious, actually.

As uncomfortable as this walk of shame is—uh, not that that’s what it is at all—it would be way more uncomfortable if it were the other way around. Sokka’s not even sure he would make it out of the Fire School dormitories alive.

They could have scoured out a study space in the Central building, but Sokka finds it easier to focus on his work when he has comfortable furniture to flop onto. It’s too hard to think with both feet on the floor.

His hands are sweating when he reaches his door, and he nearly drops his keys before getting it unlocked. He feels anxious, like everyone is judging him, but he shoves his nerves aside.

“Welcome to Casa de Sokka,” he announces as he pushes the door open wide.

Zuko follows him inside but stops as soon as he’s through the door. Sokka looks at him quizzically and takes in the sheer panic on Zuko’s face. Sokka sweeps his eyes over the room and, yeah, he’ll admit he could have cleaned up a bit first. There’s clothing everywhere—even though he’s been back for less than a week—but it’s not as if there’s dirty underwear lying about or anything embarrassing like that. Probably.

“Okay, yeah,” he says, and he starts kicking some of the clothes off to one side to make an empty space in the middle of the room. He goes over to his beanbag chair and delicately picks up one (clean) sock, and adds it to the pile in the corner. “Much better.”

Zuko still looks horrified. There’s just no pleasing some people.

“Make yourself at home, I guess,” Sokka says, spreading his arms wide and trying to hide the fact that he’s suddenly very self-conscious about the state of his room. Maybe Zuko is one of those uptight people who has a precise place for everything and never leaves anything lying around. Doesn’t mean he has to be a judgmental dick about it, though.

Sokka picks up his laptop from the floor next to his bed, where it’s been charging all day, and brings it up onto his bed with him, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his tie as he goes. He settles up against the side wall and slouches down, balancing the laptop between his leg and chest, and then swings his other leg up over his knee. He taps his foot in midair as he logs in to his computer.

Zuko is still standing in the middle of the room when Sokka looks up and frowns at him.

“You can sit, you know,” he says, and he could swear Zuko turns a bit red.

“Right,” he says. “Yeah.” He looks around for a second and then decides to take the beanbag chair. Sokka watches as he sinks down into and grimaces. He shifts around for a minute and then awkwardly pushes himself to his feet again.

Sokka just smiles at him, amused, watching as he tries to figure out what to do next. Eventually Zuko settles for perching himself at the very edge of the bed, and Sokka laughs.

“Dude, you can sit closer,” he says. “I don’t bite. Unless it’s a full moon.”

Zuko looks over his shoulder at him, utterly perplexed. “What?”

“Just. Werewolf humour,” Sokka says, but Zuko doesn’t show a hint of amusement. “Tough crowd, okay.” He returns his attention to his computer and opens the document he’d been working on last night, where’s he outlined exactly how they are going to complete the assignment.

Zuko shifts backwards until his back’s against the wall too, but he’s still at the other end of the bed.

“Shoes,” Sokka says to him, and he goes red again.

“Right, sorry,” he says quietly, hunching forward to untie his laces. It’s kind of funny seeing him in his full uniform with no shoes. Even his socks go with it, though—red with a navy stripe.

“Okay, so,” Sokka continues, angling his laptop screen towards him when he sits up. “I was thinking we should divide this up into—” He stops and looks over at Zuko. “Can you even see this? Hold on.”

He scoots towards him and turns the laptop more, but Zuko flinches. “Seriously, I was kidding about the werewolf thing,” Sokka laughs, and Zuko laughs nervously in response.

“Right. Yeah.” He keeps his head lowered but turns enough to read from the screen.

Sokka explains his plan and what they’re going to need to do for this project, and Zuko just nods along, silently. “I think it’s best if we do it together,” he adds, glancing at Zuko, who is severely blushing. “I mean, I know I kind of took the lead on this, but it’s a joint project and I don’t want you to think that I—”

“It’s fine,” Zuko says. “It’s—This is a good plan.”

“Cool,” Sokka says, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

“You’re, um—” Zuko begins, but he cuts himself off.

“I’m what?”

“You’re really into this stuff, aren’t you?” he says, making eye contact for the first time since they got here.

All of a sudden, Sokka feels self-conscious. “Well, I mean, everyone needs to have Thing, right?”

“Yeah. It’s… cool,” Zuko says with a small nod.

“Makes up for the fact that I suck at waterbending,” Sokka adds with a forced laugh.

Zuko frowns. “That’s not true, is it?”

“I have to retake the Level 1 Waterbending class,” Sokka says, leaning in, like it’s a hilarious secret. He slaps his hand down on Zuko’s shoulder but immediately regrets it and pulls away, clearing his throat. “With my little sister, so, y’know. Not ideal.”

“I suppose not.”

Sokka stares down at his computer screen, wondering why he’s said any of this. To Zuko, of all people.

“I don’t know if you’ve thought about…” Zuko adds after a moment, though he pauses to scratch the back of his neck. “Just, I think the Institute of Elemental Technology is more about, well, this stuff,”—he waves his hand towards the document on Sokka’s computer—“and not as much emphasis on the bending.”

A sad smile tugs at the corners of Sokka’s mouth. “You’re asking if I’ve ever thought about going to IET?”

Zuko looks at him sheepishly. “Um, yes?”

“Believe me, I would if I could,” Sokka says. “But there’s no way I could get the grades for it, with Waterbending dragging my average down. Plus, transferring is probably a pain in the ass. It’s just… not in the cards, I don’t think.”

“Oh. Okay.” Zuko seems legitimately disappointed.

“Yep,” Sokka adds. “The Academy is stuck with me.”

They fall into silence, except for the sound of Sokka lightly tapping his keyboard—not hard enough to type anything, but enough to make a soft clacking sound that he finds soothing.

“So,” he finally says. “Should we get to work?”

Zuko stares at him for a beat and then nods. “Lead the way.”

* * *

The Fire School common room is pretty empty tonight, just a couple small clusters of students near the fireplace. No one’s using the kettle at the moment, which Zuko is thankful for. If he could keep a kettle in his room, he would, but it’s against the rules. They’re considered a fire hazard, which is ironic. Literally every student here is a fire hazard.

He fills the kettle and clicks it on, then takes out the travel mug and one of the teabags he always keeps in his school bag. He blames his uncle Iroh for teaching him the importance of having tea at the ready whenever he needs it, like when he’s in a ‘cloudy mood’, as his uncle would say.

This isn’t cloudy mood tea, though. This is _I need something to do with my face to keep from grinning like an idiot_ tea.

He just spent two hours in Sokka’s bed. Not like _that_ , but still. They sat together and worked on their assignment and he didn’t self-combust. It was quite a feat, actually. By the end, Sokka was leaning over so far that their shoulders were almost touching. Zuko can’t even remember what their assignment was about.

The kettle grows louder and he lowers his head when some of the others in the common room look over. Like they hadn’t even realized he was here. He’d honestly prefer it that way. He’s worried if anyone got too close a look at him, they’d see it written all over his face. In block letters. STUPID CRUSH.

“Oh, there you are.”

He turns to see his sister Azula walking up to him, as the kettle reaches a boil, and he frowns. “Were you looking for me?”

“Well, we missed you today,” she says with a fake sweetness that he knows means she’s up to something.

“Who’s we?” he asks.

“The rest of the team, of course,” she says. “There was a last-minute meeting about an hour ago.”

“What? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“I texted you about it.”

His brow furrows deeper. “No, you didn’t,” he says, but he pulls out his phone to check. No messages.

“Oh, whoops,” she says, looking at her own phone. “I forgot to hit send.”

A message pops up on Zuko’s phone now, from Azula. _“Team meeting in the common room at 7 today.”_

“Great, thank you,” he grumbles.

“It wasn’t all that important anyway,” she says. “They were just voting on the new team captain.”

“Tonight?” he asks, incredulously. “I thought that wasn’t until next week.”

“It was supposed to be, but some of us thought we shouldn’t wait. Otherwise we lose a whole week of training. It’s better to sort it all out right away, don’t you think?”

Zuko stares down at his empty travel mug, fuming. “Who got it, then?” he says. “Who’s the captain?”

When Azula doesn’t say anything, he looks over at her again. She’s smiling evilly, like a cartoon villain.

“Fuck,” he groans, and she gives him a condescending pout.

“Oh, Zuko, can’t you just be happy for me?”

“You _know_ I wanted to be captain this year, Azula!”

“Yes, well, so did I,” she says. “And I’m the one who did something about it.”

“You’re a first year!” he says. “I’ve been here longer. I’ve put in the time. I’ve _earned_ it.”

She gives him a patronizing smile. “And yet I have it. Funny, that.”

He picks up his school bag and his empty mug and storms off. He can’t bear to look at her another moment without flying off the handle.

“Aw, what about your tea, Zuzu?” she calls after him. Loudly.

“Fuck you,” he mutters under his breath.

* * *

Katara’s never seen the Central Dining Hall decorated this way. Granted, she’s only been at the Academy for a week, but she had no idea it could look like this. There are twinkling lights and silver stars hanging from the ceiling, and the tables have all been pushed to the sides of the room to make space for a dance floor in the middle.

Katara isn’t dancing, though. It’s not that she doesn’t like dancing—she loves dancing, actually—but it’s a bit hard for her to ‘dance like nobody’s watching’ when all of the other Year 1 students are there, watching.

Instead she’s standing off to one side, near some of the stacked up tables, and sipping from a can of soda with a paper straw. The end is soggy from her mouth and she doesn’t really want to drink from it anymore, but she doesn’t have anything else to do. She didn’t even want to come tonight, but Sokka forced her to go. He said it’s important for her to have fun, too.

Because this is so fun.

When Aang gets back from the bathroom, she hands him the other can she’d been holding for him, and he takes it happily. She knows Sokka probably has a point about her never being able to fit in by befriending the super-genius kid instead of, say, an average student. But Aang is way nicer than any of the average students she’s met so far.

“Maybe we should be dancing,” he suggests when an upbeat song comes on. “Or, like, talking to people? That’s what this whole thing is for, right? Making friends?”

Katara smiles at how sweet and optimistic he is, considering he’s been picked on by other students all week. “We’ve already made friends,” she says, giving him a little punch in the arm, and he laughs.

“Yeah, okay, but dancing is fun, right?”

“I dunno…” She scrunches up her face as she looks around. “There’s so many people…”

He sighs an exasperated sigh, like he’s well beyond his twelve years of age. “Come on,” he says, dragging her by the sleeve towards the dance floor.

He stops when he remembers the can of soda in his hand and veers off towards a garbage bin, but he doesn’t look where he’s going when he switches directions, and nearly crashes right into someone, Katara stumbling after him.

“Whoa, sorry—” he says, but the girl fixes him with an icy stare.

“Watch where you’re going, runt,” she says, and Katara bristles. “Don’t you know who I am?” the girl adds haughtily.

“Um. No?” Aang says. He chuckles nervously. “But, uh, I’m Aang.” He holds out his hand and she looks at it for a second before continuing to glare at him.

“I’m Azula. From the Fire School,” she says, as though this should mean something. She huffs impatiently when neither of them show any sign of recognition. “Headmaster Ozai’s _daughter_.”

“Headmaster Ozai’s…” Katara says, trailing off. And then it hits her. “You’re Zuko’s sister!”

That appears to irritate Azula even more. “Are you familiar with my brother?” she says bitterly.

“Not personally,” Katara scoffs. “But I’ve heard enough to know that I don’t want anything to do with him. Or his sister.”

“Katara…” Aang says through his teeth, cautioning her to be chill about this. But she has no chill left. (If she ever had any.)

“Look, my friend apologized already, and he didn’t even hit you, so I don’t know what your problem is—”

“What’s your name?” Azula asks suddenly, turning her glare to Katara.

“Um, it’s Katara,” she says, “but I don’t see how that should—”

“And did you make it onto your school’s team this year, Katara?”

This question throws her off. “Tryouts are next week, but—“

“Well,” Azula says, with a patronizing tilt of her head, “I’ve already made captain of the Fire School’s team. So you might want to watch your tone with me, because I don’t take mercy on people who piss me off.”

“How— How did you make captain in your first year?” Katara asks in disbelief.

Azula smirks. “I’m just that good, sweetheart.”

Katara feels a flash of rage surge through her, and she grips the can of soda in her hand tightly. “Congratulations, then,” she says, forcing the words through her clenched jaw.

“Aw, thank you.” Azula’s smile turns artificially sweet. “Now that we’ve got that cleared up, I’ll let you go back to babysitting. Nice to meet you, Katara.”

Katara watches Azula walk away and waits for the anger within her to subside a little. Then she takes Aang’s soda and marches over to the garbage can to dump them both.

“Come on,” she says forcefully, turning to face the dance floor again. “I am going to _dance_ and _have fun,_ even if it kills me.”

* * *

“This is fun,” Ty Lee says, hugging a Pusheen the Cat plushie to her chest as she curls up on her bed next to Mai. There’s a movie playing on the laptop in front of them, but Mai has hardly been paying attention.

“What’s fun?” she asks.

“This,” Ty Lee says as she nestles closer to Mai. “Hanging out.”

Mai clamps her hands between her knees to keep herself from accidentally making contact with any part of her friend, who is now fully resting on her shoulder. “We hang out all the time.”

“Yeah, but I mean just us,” Ty Lee explains. “I like when it’s just the two of us, again.”

Mai doesn’t dare say anything. She just shrugs.

“I mean, hanging out with Azula can be fun, too,” Ty Lee adds quickly. “But it’s kind of nice that she’s at that Year 1 thing so we don’t have to feel bad about hanging out without her, you know?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s… easier when it’s us, right?”

Mai isn’t so sure about that. Because Ty Lee gets awfully cuddly when it’s just the two of them, and Mai isn’t sure how much more she can take before she does something she’ll regret. She has visions of herself reaching her breaking point and just kissing Ty Lee. She also has visions of herself pushing Ty Lee off the bed so she breaks her arm, but she really, really doesn’t like those ones.

She thinks, for a few minutes, that Ty Lee has returned her attention to the movie, but then she speaks up again, softly. “Mai?” she says. “Are you sure you’re not getting back together with Zuko this year?”

“Where is this coming from?” Mai says, looking down at Ty Lee’s head on her shoulder. “I already said no.”

“I know, but I’m just wondering, ‘cause…” Ty Lee squeezes the plushie tighter. “I missed you last year, when you were dating him,” she admits. “But you could! If you wanted to, I’d support—”

Mai shakes her head. “We’re just friends now.”

“And there’s no one else?” Ty Lee lifts her head to look at Mai.

“No one else what?”

“I mean, like, have you got a crush on someone else?”

Mai feels her face flush as Ty Lee blinks up at her. “No,” she says stiffly. “Crushes are pathetic and stupid, and I have no time for them.”

“Oh.” Ty Lee lowers her head and shifts against Mai’s side. “Okay.”

“So…” Mai adds hesitantly. “We can hang out more. Like this.”

“Yeah?” She can tell that Ty Lee is grinning even if she can’t see her face.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. She tilts her head slightly, resting her face in Ty Lee’s hair for a moment, and Ty Lee squeezes her arm.

Mai breathes in the scent of her friend’s shampoo and tries to ground herself. She’s not going to kiss Ty Lee, not without permission. She wouldn’t. And she’s not going to hurt her.

She doesn’t want to, at least.

* * *

The students in the Fire School arena are already practicing, even though the class hasn’t started yet. It’s only the second week of classes, too, but already students are showing off what they can do. Posturing.

Azula has no time for such things. She knows she’s better than everyone in this class, even though she got fast-tracked into Level 2 Firebending and is younger than everyone here.

She stands tall in the centre of the arena as most of the other students send their weak fireballs flying against the fireproof glass that surrounds them, protecting the rest of the stadium. She doesn’t need to join their pathetic games; she knows her place. Captain of the Fire School team. The one who is going to wipe the floor with all of them when she triumphs in the Trials this year.

The fireballs disappear in thin air, snuffed out by the instructor as he walks into the arena. “Fire is not a toy,” he says, and Azula rolls her eyes.

The worst part of taking this class is that her uncle Iroh is the instructor, and his teaching style leaves a lot to be desired. He starts each class with a speech or a poem, or something of the sort, that is supposed to bring insight and wisdom, but only manages to bore them all to tears.

“Now, we’re going to pair up today—” he says when he finishes his speech, and Azula’s eyes immediately cut over to Ty Lee and Mai standing next to her. “So choose a partner, and—”

Azula grabs Ty Lee’s wrist before he even finishes speaking. She turns to her friends with a scowl. “Let’s go,” she says to Ty Lee.

“Why not let her decide who she wants to pair up with?” Mai says, putting a hand on Ty Lee’s other shoulder.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” Ty Lee says happily, though there a noticeable quiver in her voice.

“See? She’s fine with it,” Azula says, giving Ty Lee’s wrist a sharp tug.

Ty Lee looks back at Mai apologetically. “I think that guy needs a partner,” she says, pointing to someone at the other side of the platform. She cups her hand next to her mouth and whisper-yells, “He’s cute, too.”

Mai rolls her eyes and stalks off.

Ty Lee turns to Azula again, worry on her face. “Maybe we should’ve asked the instructor if we could do a threesome with Mai?”

“Don’t say things like that,” Azula tells her, dragging her off to an empty spot so they can practice. “It doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

Azula places Ty Lee into position and then takes her spot across from her, a few feet away. She conjures up a flame and then pushes it through the air to Ty Lee, who catches it adeptly and returns it.

“That’s it,” Master Iroh says as he walks around, watching the students’ attempts. “Nice and slow, don’t force it. Feel the energy flowing, it’s an extension of your soul.”

Azula rolls her eyes again and Ty Lee giggles.

“It just feels like fire to me,” Ty Lee says, once he’s out of earshot.

Azula catches the flame again with a flourish. Not that she needs to show off. That’s not her style, of course. She passes it smoothly back.

“So,” she says casually as Ty Lee reaches out to catch it, “what did you get up to?”

Ty Lee frowns curiously but doesn’t drop the flame. “When?”

“When I was at the Year 1 Mixer. Did you do anything fun?” Azula knows the answer, but she wants Ty Lee to say it.

“Oh, uh…” Ty Lee lowers her gaze sheepishly and holds the flame a moment longer. “I was just, you know, hanging out with Mai.”

“I see…” Azula can see Ty Lee’s weak spot so clearly, it’s almost too easy.

“Like, it’s no big deal,” Ty Lee adds quickly. “We totally would have hung out with you too, if you weren’t busy. We weren’t, like, excluding you.”

“Of course not.” Azula sends the flame back a bit more forcefully than she needs to. Ty Lee takes a step backward when she catches it.

“We just watched a movie. You wouldn’t even have liked it.”

“What movie?”

“ _Kiki’s Delivery Service_.”

“Oh.” Azula frowns. “I hate that movie.”

“Yeah, so—”

“I suppose you just couldn’t wait, then,” she continues. She shoots the next flame over faster.

Ty Lee fumbles and almost drops it. “Wait for what—”

“You couldn’t wait for me to be out of your hair so you wouldn’t have to watch the awful movies I like, is that it?”

“No, Azula, we just—”

“You two are only friends because of me, remember?”

“But we—”

“And you already spent all of last year without me,” Azula says. “I thought our friendship would be stronger than ever this year, but I guess not.”

“It is!” Ty Lee insists. “We just thought— You were busy so we— I’m sorry, Azula. We didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” Azula cuts in. “I know you’re sorry. And I know you would never do something like this if you knew it would hurt me, would you?”

“Of course not! Azula, I—”

“Good,” she says. “I’m glad I can trust you.”

“Yeah… Totally.” Ty Lee quiets nervously as she sends the flame back. She barely pushes it enough to even reach Azula.

Azula smiles sweetly at her. “You’ve always been my best friend, you know.”

Ty Lee’s face lights up. “Really?”

“Of course. And I will always have your back.” Azula makes the flame in her hand grow larger. “As long as you have mine.”

* * *

“Headmaster Ozai will see you now.”

The woman at the desk outside the Headmaster’s office motions for Zuko to enter. He stands and brushes his hands off on his trousers. His palms are sweating.

It’s ridiculous that he has to make an appointment to speak to his own father.

He steps into the office where he finds the Headmaster seated at a large and ornately carved wooden desk, typing furiously at his computer.

“I was told I could—” Zuko says, but his father holds up a finger to silence him. He isn’t sure what to do now, so he stands there awkwardly as the door clicks shut behind him.

His father stops typing, takes off his glasses, and looks up at him. “Why are you standing there?” he snaps. “Either sit down or leave.”

Zuko hurriedly takes a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs across from him.

“Now,” his father says slowly, but just as impatiently, “tell me why you are here.”

“I—I wanted to talk to you about Azula,” Zuko says, clearing his throat when his voice catches. He hates the way he always sounds weak and nervous in front of his father. “She deceived her way into being made team captain, despite the fact that I have seniority, and I don’t think it’s fair—”

“Is this really what you came to talk to me about?” the Headmaster says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “A pathetic sibling squabble. Can’t you sort this out yourself?”

“She lied and cheated her way into that position,” Zuko argues, “and you have the authority to overturn the decision and make them do a proper vote, with all parties present, and—”

“I’m not going to do anything. And I can’t believe you would waste my time on such petty business.”

“But—”

“Accept the fact that your sister bested you, or do something about it, but do not expect me to get involved,” his father says. “Honestly, Zuko, if you have to come crying to me over something like this, you do not have what it takes to be team captain. You can’t even avoid getting burned by your own teammates—”

“That happened once!”

“And yet you’ll live with the shame of it forever,” he says, gesturing at Zuko’s scar.

Zuko’s face heats up with anger and humiliation, and he lowers his head.

“You have to prove yourself, if you want to be captain,” his father says, putting his glasses back on. “And I don’t think you have it in you.” He returns his attention to the computer and makes a loud throat-clearing sound to indicate for Zuko to leave.

Zuko’s stomach is roiling as he walks out. He’s not sure what he expected. And he doesn’t know why he thought his father might listen to him, might help him.

Well, maybe he does know why. Maybe he hoped that the idea of his own son’s rightful position being usurped like that would reflect poorly on Ozai, as a father and a Headmaster, and he would want to uphold the traditions, for honour’s sake. That he might want to help Zuko succeed so that he wouldn’t just become a blemish on the family name.

Zuko catches his reflection in a window when he steps outside, and realizes that maybe he already is.


	3. Chapter 3

“Grapefruit?” Sokka says, grimacing at Katara’s breakfast tray.

“It’s good for you,” she replies with her nose in the air as she sits down with him and the others.

“I like grapefruit,” Suki says from her seat next to Sokka.

Sokka glares at her sideways. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m on your side, Sokka,” Aang says. “The only food that should be sour is gummies.” Sokka reaches across the table to high-five him.

“I’d say grapefruit is more tart than sour,” Suki says pensively.

“The good ones are even a bit sweet,” Katara adds.

“But you have to scoop out all those little segments,” Sokka says, miming with the fork in his hand. “It’s so tedious, and for what? The payout’s not that great. It’s a sucker’s food.”

“I’m ignoring you now,” Katara says to him.

“So, Katara,” Suki says, leaning forward and holding her hand up to block Sokka from her sightline. “I heard you made it onto the Water School team.”

“Oh!” Katara is a little surprised that she knows already; Sokka must have told her some time since last night. “Yeah, I just found out yesterday.”

Suki grins. “That’s exciting. When do you start training?”

“This afternoon.” Katara smiles shyly. “I’m a bit nervous, actually.”

“You’re going to be great,” Sokka tells her, and she glances at him.

“I’m ignoring you, remember?”

“Aw, come on, still? That was like seven topics ago in my head.”

Suki pushes his face out of the conversation. “How about you, Aang?” she says. “Are you going to be on the Air School team?”

“I’m not allowed to,” Aang says sheepishly.

“What?” Katara says. “Why not?”

“Well, they said it’s not fair because I can work with all the elements,” he explains. “It might give whatever team I’m on an unfair advantage.”

“But you think they’d want talented students to participate,” she says in disbelief. “And if we’re talking about unfair advantages, let’s talk about the whole _freaking_ Fire School team.”

“What d’you mean?”

“The Fire School has won the Trials every year since, like, forever.”

“Yeah, I think it’s legit been a hundred years since another School has won,” Suki adds. “That’s nearly half the lifetime of the Academy itself.”

“Oh,” Aang says, surprised.

“So they’ve got a hundred years of prize money poured into their School; they have the best facilities and learning materials and living quarters,” Katara continues. “And the rest of the Schools are just scraping by.”

“I hear the Water School’s only going to be able to accept a handful of new students next year,” Sokka chimes in, and this time Katara doesn’t shut him up. “There’s just not enough funding and resources.”

“Same for the Earth School,” Suki says.

“Wait, so the winning School gets more funding?” Aang asks.

“Yeah, it’s total bul—” Katara cuts herself off. “—Loney.”

“You can say _bullshit_ , Katara,” Sokka says, and Aang snickers. “Because it is.”

“I just want _someone else_ to win,” says Suki. “I don’t even care if it’s us or not.”

“Um, can I just ask…” Aang says with a nervous chuckle. “What exactly are the _Trials_? Everyone keeps talking about them and I don’t know… what they are.”

“Oh,” Katara says. It hadn’t occurred to her that anyone at the school might not know; she’s grown up knowing all about the Academy from a young age.

“I’ve never met anyone who’s gone here before, so—”

“No, it’s okay, Aang,” she says. “I’m sorry I didn’t even think to—”

“I’ll handle this, Katara,” Sokka says, holding up a hand in front of her. She glowers at him. “The Trials are a series of stupid tests and games that the Schools compete in so that the Fire School students can feel good about themselves for once in their miserable lives.”

“And now for the _helpful_ answer,” Suki says, pulling his arm down.

“Well, like Sokka said—sort of,” Katara continues, “the Trials—I mean, the Elemental Trials—are a series of tests and games, meant to challenge each School’s skills and mastery of the elements. There’s two parts, actually. The Autumnal Trials, that test different skills, and the Vernal Tournament, where the Schools face each other in games of Avatar. But the team with the most points at the end of the school year wins. All the trials and games get tallied up at the end.”

“Oh,” Aang says, nodding slowly as he processes it. “So these happen all year?”

“Well, there’s four trials in the fall and four rounds of Avatar games in the spring,” Suki tells him. “Each School hosts one of the trials and rounds.”

“So this is, like, the most important thing at the Academy?” Aang says, and Sokka barks a laugh.

“I mean, yes, you’re sort of right,” he says, leaning forward on his elbow. “But that’s only because the priorities here are so fu—” Katara kicks him under the table. “— _Funked_ up,” he concludes. “None of this matters in the real world.”

“Because you know all about the real world,” Katara says, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll have you know I am very worldly,” he says, and Suki pats him on the head.

“We know,” she says patronizingly. “We know.”

“Well, as long as the Trials do matter here,” Katara says, “then it’s important for us to do whatever we can to make sure a different team wins this year.”

“You ladies can do that,” Sokka says, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands behind his head. “Me and my buddy Aang will cheer you on from the sidelines.”

“Oh, Sokka,” Suki says with a laugh, patting him on the head again. Then she grabs him by the ponytail at the crown of his head and tugs it back. “Don’t call me a lady ever again.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Sokka squeaks, and she lets him go. He smooths his hand over his hair. “If you keep beating me up, I’m going to fall in love with you again,” he adds.

Suki grimace-smiles at Katara, who laughs.

“You guys are weird,” Aang says, happily munching on his cereal. “I like it.”

* * *

“—So I was thinking we could address this by—” The bed creaks, interrupting him, and Sokka looks over to see Zuko shifting in his seat, hugging one knee to his chest.

“Sorry,” Zuko apologizes quickly. “Uh, my leg was falling asleep.”

“I feel you,” Sokka says, flexing the foot he has propped up against the side of his dresser. He’s angled in his beanbag chair with one leg pressing against the dresser and the other crossed over it, his laptop resting on his stomach. “It’s why I can’t sit in the same position for more than five minutes.”

“I’ve noticed,” Zuko says, and Sokka grins, his head practically upside down from the way he has to crane his neck to look over at him.

“Right, okay,” Sokka says, returning his attention to his computer. He stares at it for a moment. “Where was I?”

“I think we were going to address the issue with the—”

“Oh, right, right, yeah.” He holds his laptop up over his head and swings his legs down to the floor. He can hear Zuko wince when he nearly drops it. “I got it, I got it. Okay.”

Sokka cracks his neck to one side and proceeds to explain the rest of his plan to Zuko, who listens intently. Or at least silently. He’s so silent that Sokka stops mid-sentence to check that he’s still there.

Zuko flusters a bit when they make eye contact. “What?” he says, tensing his shoulders up.

Sokka’s eyes narrow. “Are you okay?”

“Um. Yes?” Zuko looks baffled. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Just, you’re like—” Sokka sits up straighter and hunches his shoulders up to imitate Zuko’s posture, wobbling rigidly. “I mean this project isn’t that big a deal,” he says. “You can chill.”

“You clearly don’t know me very well,” Zuko says, and this surprises a laugh out of Sokka.

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “That’s a good point.” He snaps his laptop shut and clambers to his feet.

“What are you doing?” Zuko asks when Sokka plonks himself right onto the middle of the bed, sitting with his legs crossed, facing him.

“We’re going to get to know each other,” Sokka says, and Zuko’s eyes flash with terror. “Come on.” He motions for Zuko to turn to face him too.

“Why is this happening?” Zuko says, his voice small and fearful. But he turns anyway, pushing aside his uniform jacket, that he’d left on the bed next to him.

“It’s called _bonding_ , dude,” Sokka says, and then grins widely. “Get it? _Bonding_?” He points at his laptop on the floor. “Because we’re doing chemical bonds.”

“I got it—”

“Come on, it was funny,” he insists. He waves his hands back and forth in the space between them. “We can share valence electrons and stuff.”

Zuko blinks at him like he’s just said something rude.

“Or not?” He chuckles nervously, feeling scrutinized all of a sudden. He folds his hands in his lap. “Anyway. I figure, since we obviously don’t know much about each other, we could each say a thing. About ourselves.”

“Is this really necessary?” Zuko grimaces.

“Of course it’s not,” Sokka says. “That’s not the point.”

Zuko closes his eyes for a moment. “Fine,” he says when he opens them again.

“Good.” Sokka nods at him. “Go on, then.”

“Wait, I have to go first?”

“Well, you’re the mysterious one,” he says, his hands flying up despite his efforts to rein himself in. “I’m an open book.” He gestures towards the beanbag chair. “I know I said it was just the chair vinyl, but I totally farted before, so clearly you’re the one who needs to loosen up, here.”

“Oh, _god_ —”

“So tell me,” Sokka continues, “why are you all”—he waves his hand around, motioning towards Zuko’s entire being—“like _this_ today?”

Zuko looks like he’s trying to be angry but there’s a flicker of a smile on his face, and Sokka knows he’s winning. “I’ve had a shitty week,” he says finally.

Sokka rests his chin against his steepled hands. “Mm-hmm, go on.”

“I mean, I don’t know,” Zuko adds, exasperated, as he leans back on one hand and waves the other in front of him. “My sister is the team captain and she’s making us run all these stupid drills, and she’s not even qualified, but the Headmaster won’t do anything—”

“Wait,” Sokka says, stifling a laugh. “You call your dad ‘the Headmaster’?”

Zuko’s hand drops. “Well, yeah,” he says, and Sokka’s laughter bursts out. “What?” Zuko adds, clearly biting back his own laughter. “He is!”

“No, I know, it’s just. It’s so sweet,” he says mockingly.

“Fuck you,” Zuko says, though the words are broken by his laugh. “How do you refer to your father, then? He works here, too, right?”

“Yeah, but I just call him my dad.”

“Even to other students?”

“Yes?” Sokka says. He’s not sure why that should be strange. “Well, he mostly teaches the upper year classes, so he doesn’t frequently come up in conversation, but. Yeah.”

Zuko shrugs and sits up a bit. “I mean, I guess it’s kind of like he’s the Headmaster first and my father second,” he says. He pauses to think. “Or maybe third,” he adds. “He’s a pretty avid golfer.”

Sokka makes a fake barfing noise. “Sorry, but. _Golf_.”

“I know.”

“It’s not even a sport, just a way for rich people to show how rich they are.”

“ _Believe me_ ,” Zuko stresses, “I know.”

Sokka leans back on his hands, now, and tilts his head as he surveys the boy across from him. “You know, I never thought I would be friends with a rich kid,” he says. “Especially a Fire School one, yikes.”

“ _Yikes_?” Zuko echoes, and Sokka beams at him. “And are we friends, even?”

“Chemical bonds, baby,” he says, doing the finger-gun thing he does when he feels super awkward and doesn’t know what to do.

“Right. Valence electrons,” Zuko says. “My mistake.”

“Okay, okay,” Sokka adds, pushing himself upright again. “We should get back to the assignment—”

“But you haven’t said your thing yet.”

“What?”

“You said we would each say a thing about ourselves,” Zuko says. “I said my thing, but you didn’t say yours.”

Sokka suddenly regrets everything. “But I confessed to the beanbag fart,” he says, pointing to the chair again.

“But I already knew that, so you have to tell me something new.”

“Okay…” he says slowly, though only one thought bubbles forward in his mind. “Here’s a thing for you,—” He slaps his hands down on his thighs as he sits forward. “I fucking _hate_ it here.”

Zuko leans back, startled. “Oh, I—“

“I’m miserable, like, all the time.” Sokka grins maniacally and his words come spilling out. “This place is literally hell to me, and everyone here is so fucked up, and no one cares about anything that matters, and this whole fucking place is designed to make sure the people who don’t fit in feel like shit.” He takes a deep breath.

“I— I’m sorry—”

“What? It’s not your fault. Just because it’s designed to benefit people like you and not people like me,” he says, his words coming out too loud and too fast, “it doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

“I hardly think it’s designed for me, either,” Zuko huffs.

Sokka blinks at him a few times while his anger dissipates as quickly as it appeared. “Right. Yeah. It’s a shitty place.”

Zuko nods.

“And everyone here sucks,” Sokka adds. He smiles a little when Zuko glances over at him. “Mostly.”

Zuko smiles a little too. “Mostly.”

* * *

“Three more laps, people!” Azula shouts as she watches her teammates run in circles around the perimeter of the arena, carrying a flame in each hand. “And the last five of you get to do an extra one!”

“Azula,” Zuko says, partially out of breath, as he jogs over to her. “This is ridiculous.”

“Three more laps, Zuzu,” she says with a dismissive wave.

His brow furrows. “What is the point in this type of training when the first trial is always a puzzle? Shouldn’t we be focusing on that?”

“Puzzles are easy, brother,” she tells him. “I can handle that all on my own. But we have to think about _all_ the trials. It’s never too early to start training for the strength and agility trials.”

“How are they supposed to learn to work together as a team when you’re making them compete with each other?”

“A competitive spirit is necessary to win this thing—“

“But so is teamwork, Azula,” Zuko says seriously. “So is problem-solving. It’s not just who can run the fastest or make the biggest fire—”

“You think I don’t know that?” she snaps, getting up in his face menacingly, despite his height advantage. “I know what needs to be done—”

“You don’t, though! You’ve never done any of this before, you have no idea what the demands are or what we should be focusing on—”

“We should be focusing on the things that are going to make us faster, stronger, _better_!” she says, raising her voice. “Leave the problem-solving to me and just do your grunt work.”

Zuko stares at her in disbelief. “So that’s what this is about,” he says. “You only want the team for the things you can’t do alone, but you’re leaving them helpless when it comes to everything else so you can claim all the points for yourself.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

He groans and tugs at his hair, making some fall out of its tie. “You realize we’ll earn more points _as a team_ if we have more than one person solving problems, right?”

“Well I don’t particularly care how many we earn _as a team_ , I care how many _I_ earn.”

“We could lose the entire thing, Azula—“

“Oh, we are not going to _lose_ ,” she says. “The other Schools are always hopeless, you’ve said it yourself.”

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t prepare—”

“You there!” Azula interrupts, shoving Zuko aside and pointing towards the last five people to make it to the finish line. “Another lap, right now! Everyone else, gather up!”

“ _Azula_ —”

“You still owe me three laps, brother,” she says, smiling at him as the others make their way over.

His eyes glint with the spark of something, like he wants to challenge her, but he takes a step back, reluctantly. “This is all going to blow up in your face, Azula.”

“Hmm, make it four laps, Zuzu!” she calls after him as he jogs towards the edge of the arena.

“ _Zuzu_!” a few people echo, laughing.

“This isn’t a game,” she barks out, silencing them all. “If you are not in this to win, then get out right now.” She points off to the side towards the exit, her whole arm outstretched. “If you are in this to win, then you will drop and give me fifty flaming spring-ups, now!”

“Fifty?” someone whines, and Azula fixes her eyes on them.

“To start,” she says. She looks at everyone. “I said _now_.”

They all get down on their stomachs and she walks around, weaving through them as they spring up and down, snapping at anyone whose flame is too big or too small.

“Yeah, I only voted for her ‘cause she’s scary,” she hears someone whisper.

She feels a small flush of pride until someone replies, “I mean, I just felt sorry for her.”

* * *

Katara can’t even eat breakfast the morning of the first trial; she’s a bundle of nerves. All week her friends have been telling her she’ll do great, but she’s not so sure.

Yes, their team has the home court advantage this time, since this round is taking place at the Water School arena, but the trial is puzzles, and waterbending might be the least of their concerns.

When she steps out into the arena with her teammates, it suddenly feels real for the first time. The stands are full of students who’ve come out to watch—although students playing on the other teams are kept out, so they can’t get a sneak peek of this year’s setup. But she sees Sokka and Aang waving at her, and it makes her stomach settle a little.

The large, round platform in the middle of the arena has been blocked off with huge walls of ice, except for a pathway leading directly to the centre. The team captain, Hahn, leads them through, and the walls close up behind them as they pass. It’s a maze, Katara realizes.

When they reach the centre, the final wall goes up, and they find themselves completely enclosed.

“Wait, how are we supposed to get through the maze if we’re stuck in here?” someone asks, right before the starting buzzer sounds.

“I think there’s instructions over here,” Katara points out, rushing over to a scroll hanging open on one of the walls. “Yeah, I think it’s a series of escape rooms,” she says. “We have to solve a puzzle to get through—”

“Or we could just waterbend our way out,” someone suggests.

Katara turns to face the others. “We won’t get as many points if we don’t solve the puzzles.”

“We don’t get as many points for taking an hour to get through, either,” Hahn says. “I say we take these walls down and just make a bee-line for the exit. The time we save will make up for any points we miss from the puzzles.”

“I don’t think that—” she starts to say, but he cuts her off.

“Katara, I know what I’m doing,” he says. “And I’m the captain, so.”

“Let’s do it!” says another person.

“Maybe we should at least discuss—”

“We don’t have time for a fucking Pro/Con list, Katara,” Hahn says. He looks at everyone else. “On the count of three, guys!”

Reluctantly, Katara joins the rest of her team and helps them tear down all the ice walls between them and the exit. When they reach the edge, she looks up at the scoreboard. They received a point for every minute they came in below the time limit, so it’s not a terrible score. Though she can’t help but think, if they had given it a real shot, they could have gotten more.

She understands, now, how their team never wins.

* * *

Zuko storms past the entrance to the Fire School common room, where everyone else is gathered to celebrate their victory, and heads straight for the stairs up to his room. He’s not in the mood to celebrate tonight.

Their team may have won the first trial, but it’s only a matter of time before Azula’s ego costs them a victory. She didn’t let anyone else complete any of the puzzles today. Even the ones Zuko had mostly solved; she swooped in and finished the last step, claiming the points for herself.

He almost wishes she’d have listened to the guy who suggested they just melt down all the walls. At least then the others might realize what a terrible leader she is. But the problem is she’s an excellent strategist. She would never make such an obvious mistake.

He nearly breaks his key when he shoves it in the lock on his door.

“Hey.”

He looks over his shoulder to see Mai stepping out of her room, a little way down the hall. “Hey,” he says. His lock clicks open.

“Are you heading downstairs?” she asks, sounding like whatever answer he gives would bore her.

“No,” he says, opening his door more forcefully than he needs to.

She walks over and leans against the door frame while he tosses the bag with his team uniform to the floor. His room isn’t quite the disaster that Sokka’s is, but sometimes the floor is just the best place to put things, at the time. Especially when he’s pissed off at the world. Which is always.

“Is this about Azula?” she says. Like she thinks he’s so predictable.

“You mean the fact that she screwed over our team for her own ego?” he snaps at her.

“Well, the team won, so…”

“Yeah, this time,” he says. “But what happens when she can’t single-handedly carry it? And what about everyone else? Everyone else who could use those points too!”

“So it’s about points?”

“No, it’s just—” He drags a hand through his hair, which he forgot was still tied up, and the hair tie gets caught in his ends. He makes a frustrated sound and yanks it out, throwing it to the ground. Throwing hair ties is extremely unsatisfying, he notes.

“Whatever this is about,” she says, “is it really that big a deal?”

“Of course it is.”

“I mean, winning prizes and sibling rivalries. It’s all a bit… lame, isn’t it?”

He stares angrily down at his hair tie on the floor. This is a very big deal and not lame at all. Mostly.

“You’re saying you’d rather sulk in your room all evening than come to the party?” she adds.

He glares at her. “You’re one to talk,” he says. “You’re never _not_ sulking.”

“Right,” she says, and he can tell by the slight shift in her tone that she’s angry and trying to pretend that she’s not. “Clearly you don’t need anyone, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” he sighs when she walks off, dropping his head back. He considers going after her and apologizing for… whatever he did that pissed her off. But he’s never been able to tell if she even wanted that. Apologies just seem to make her more annoyed, most of the time.

Besides, she’s probably half way downstairs by now, and he doesn’t want to go anywhere near that party. He doesn’t need to hear people endlessly praising his sister for being an asshole.

If anyone deserves praise for being an asshole, it’s him.

He shuts his door and trudges over to his bed where he flops down, face first. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he rolls over to dig it out. It’s a message from Sokka, and it replaces the seething anger in his gut with thrilling anxiety.

_“Congrats on the thing,”_ it reads when he checks it. Accompanied by a thumbs-up emoji.

He tries to think of something clever to say back, but just settles on, _“Thanks.”_

He stares at the phone for another minute, wondering if Sokka is going to say anything else. Not that he left much of an opening for a conversation. They don’t even have text conversations. So far their exchange of numbers has only been used to schedule lab projects and study sessions.

He flips his phone over and drops it on the bed next to him, but he checks it again moments later. Still nothing. He knows he shouldn’t expect something to happen.

He knows by now that he shouldn’t get his hopes up about anything.

* * *

“I just want to say,” Azula says, standing on a table in the middle of the common room as she makes her victory speech in front of everyone, “that I couldn’t have done it without everyone here.”

Mai tips her head back against the wall. She would have left half an hour ago if it weren’t for the fact that she didn’t want Zuko to be right about her sulking. Though sulking _at_ the party is probably only marginally better than sulking in her room.

“Hey,” Ty Lee says quietly, giving her a small nudge with her shoulder. “Are you bored?”

“Always,” Mai replies drearily.

“D’you wanna go outside?”

She turns her head slightly to look at Ty Lee. “What, like a dog?”

Ty Lee laughs gently. “No, I mean like sitting in the gardens,” she says. “I wanna see the ducklings.”

“It’s not the right time of year for ducklings—” Mai says, but Ty Lee is already pulling her to her feet.

She takes Mai by the hand and leads her past the clusters of students, towards the garden doors. Mai just hopes the lighting is low enough that no one can see her face turning red.

The gardens wrap around the corner of the building, and while one half is completely visible through the windows in the common room, the duck pond is around the other side, nestled in the trees. Ty Lee takes her right to the edge of the pond before dropping her hand.

They sit on the iron bench in silence, Mai sneaking glances at Ty Lee, trying to figure out what she’s thinking as she stares down at the water, which is rippling gently from the bugs skittering across its surface. When Ty Lee looks back at her, Mai lowers her head.

“Is something wrong?” Ty Lee asks, tilting her head slightly.

“Everything’s fine,” Mai says, trying to let go of the tension gripping her by the shoulders. The last thing she needs is Ty Lee calling her out for sulking.

“Just, you’ve been really quiet tonight,” Ty Lee says with a concerned expression. “Quieter than usual.”

“It’s fine—”

“Mai,” she says, placing a hand over one of hers, “you can tell me, you know.”

Mai closes her eyes and tries not to focus on Ty Lee’s thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “Do you think I’m a miserable person?” she asks when she opens her eyes again.

“What?” Ty Lee says with a small laugh. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“I mean, am I always sulking and ruining everyone’s day?”

Ty Lee frowns at her sadly. “You don’t ruin everyone’s day,” she says. “And I don’t think you’re always sulking.” She lowers her gaze to their hands entwined on Mai’s knee. “But I kind of like that you don’t smile all the time, anyway.”

“You do?” Mai says, and Ty Lee meets her gaze again.

“Yeah,” she says, a small smile on her face. “Because I feel special when you smile at me.”

“Oh.” The sound barely escapes Mai’s throat.

“Yeah,” Ty Lee says again, with a tiny, shaky laugh. She buries her head against Mai’s shoulder. “You think this is stupid, don’t you?”

“I— I don’t think it’s stupid,” Mai says, so quietly she’s practically whispering now. She could whisper. Ty Lee is close enough and the gardens are almost silent this time of night. “I—” She swallows nervously. “I like that it makes you feel special.”

Ty Lee lifts her head to look at her, and Mai can feel her face get even redder.

“Because you are,” she adds, and she’s never been more terrified of anything in her life. Admitting this to the girl that she been pining over for the past two years—because that’s what it is, pining. As much as she hates to admit it, even to herself.

Ty Lee is the reason Mai had to break up with Zuko; the feelings she had for him weren’t even in the same ballpark. And she liked him. A lot.

But Ty Lee is…

Special.

“Did you mean what you said?” Ty Lee asks, biting her lip. “That crushes are pathetic?”

“I— I don’t—”

“What if someone has a crush on you?” she says, and then immediately hides her face behind Mai’s shoulder. “Okay, it’s stupid, never mind—”

“It’s not stupid,” Mai says, trying to keep her voice steady, even though her nerves are completely rattled by what Ty Lee could be implying. “Or pathetic.”

Slowly, tentatively, she turns her hand over, palm up, and exhales with relief when Ty Lee slips her hand into it, lacing their fingers together. Mai knows Ty Lee is a very hand-holdy person, generally speaking, but this is different. It has to be.

Ty Lee looks up at her and their eyes meet again—and Mai can tell this is definitely different. “Can I kiss you?” Ty Lee asks softly.

Mai nods. And then she does.

And Mai smiles, just a little.

* * *

“Thank you for mansplaining earthbending to me,” Suki says over breakfast, the morning after the first trial.

“I’m not _mansplaining_ ,” Sokka says, aghast. “I’m just saying, as an outside observer, it occurred to me that—”

“That you know everything because you have a dick?” she says, cutting him off.

“Could you please _not_!” Katara squawks from the other side of the table. “I’m trying to eat!”

“—That there may have been other solutions that were overlooked in the chaos and stress of the moment,” Sokka continues. “Solutions that could have shaved valuable seconds, or even minutes, off your time.”

“Well, what’s done is done,” Suki says, stabbing her fork into the eggs on her plate. The yolk running out makes Sokka think of blood and he winces.

“It’s not just you guys, though,” he says quickly. “I came up with better solutions for all the teams— Well, except for the Fire School, because that girl is scary good.”

Suki and Katara both glare at him.

“I mean, you girls are scary good too!” He grins nervously, holding up his hands in defence. “I just think there’s something to be said for an outsider’s perspective.”

“What the Water School really needs is a leader who actually knows what he’s doing,” Katara grumbles.

“That is true,” he concedes.

“I like Sokka’s ideas,” Aang says, smiling brightly, though he slinks back when the girls both stare at him at once. “Just… they’re kind of like… life hacks?”

“ _Nooo_ ,” Katara groans.

Suki swats Sokka on the arm. “You’ve got _him_ saying it, now?”

“Hey, I can’t help it if he’s an outside-the-box thinker, like myself,” he says, and Aang beams at him. “It’s a shame we can’t be, like, consultants for the other teams. Spreading our wisdom.”

“ _Wisdom_ ,” Suki scoffs.

Katara stares at the table pensively for a moment and then looks up at him, her brow furrowed. “But what if you could?” she says.

“Spread our wisdom?” Sokka asks uncertainly.

“I mean… Yes? Sort of. Just—” She sits up straighter in her seat and sets her fork down. “It doesn’t really matter which School wins, right? As long as it isn’t the Fire School. All the other teams are equally deserving.”

“Yeah…” he say slowly.

“So what if we all, you know… Helped each other out?”

“You mean like cheating?” Suki asks casually, like she’d have no problem with that.

“No, not really,” Katara says. “Well— I don’t think so? I just mean, what if we pool our resources and knowledge and work together? To help each other learn things we wouldn’t have come up with on our own.”

Sokka quirks his head. “So, basically like studying for a test together?”

“Yes! Exactly!” she says emphatically. “That’s all these are, right? They’re just tests. And who says we can’t study with each other? We all come at these problems from different angles, and maybe we could learn from each other.”

“I mean, maybe…” Suki says as she considers this.

“Can me and Sokka still be consultants?” Aang asks.

“I don’t see why not,” Katara says with a wide smile.

“But how are you going to get the different Schools together to agree on this?” Suki asks.

Aang holds up one hand and nods seriously. “Leave that to me,” he says. “I have classes with people on each team.”

“Thanks, Aang,” Katara says happily, giving him a quick sideways hug.

He turns bright red, and Sokka clamps his mouth shut to keep from laughing. Thankfully, Katara is oblivious.

“This could be really good, you guys,” she says to all of them. “This could actually give our teams a fighting chance.”

They all raise their glasses of orange juice and toast the occasion. Sokka can’t help but think that this is where his sister belongs. Leading the good fight. Not hiding in the corner. Not _blending in_.

If only he could figure out where he belongs, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates today. Make sure you read chapter 3 first!

The desks are arranged in a rectangular U-shape around the room—an empty classroom in the Central building—and Katara stands in in the middle with Sokka and Aang, clasping her hands together nervously. She’d asked them to lead this meeting without her, to let her sit around in a U with the rest of her teammates and just observe, but Sokka told her this was her idea and she needed to take charge.

She can’t decide if being in charge is a bit thrilling or just completely terrifying.

“Th—Thank you all for coming,” she says, and Sokka nudges her elbow to encourage her to speak up. “I’m really glad we’ve all decided to come together for this, I think we could really—”

“I haven’t decided anything yet,” Hahn says, his arms folded across his chest as he leans back in his seat. “I’m still waiting for you to convince me.”

“Um, yes, well—”

“Because so far I don’t see the benefit of this little ‘ _alliance’_ you’re proposing,” he adds, with air quotes.

“Just let the girl speak, man,” says the Earth School captain—Katara thinks his name is Jet—from across the room.

“Of course _you’d_ like this idea,” Hahn says to him. “Piggy back off the rest of us.”

“We can hold our own just fine,” Jet argues back. “And in case you’ve forgotten, the strength trial is next, and that’s on our turf, so maybe _you’re_ the ones who need _our_ help, huh?”

“I mean, I think that we all—” Katara begins, but Hahn cuts her off again.

“This whole thing is ridiculous,” he says. “I don’t see why we should have to share our victory with—”

“ _Your_ victory?” says someone from the Air School at the back of the room. “When was the last time the Water School has won? Over a hundred years, is it?”

“Maybe you and your stupid wind-machine friends should go off and be vegan somewhere; leave this stuff to those of us who actually have a chance,” Hahn says dismissively, waving her off.

“Take it easy, buddy—” Jet says, holding a hand up.

“I am _not_ your buddy,” Hahn snaps.

“Look,” Sokka says, taking a step forward at Katara’s side, “maybe we all just need to calm down and—”

“And what’s he doing here?” Hahn adds, pointing at Sokka. “He’s not even on the team! And neither is the kid.”

Katara can sense Aang shrinking back at her other side. “Sokka and Aang actually have some pretty good ideas,” she says, raising her voice. “And maybe we all need to hear from an outside perspective, whether that be from the other teams or people outside the teams altogether—”

“So we all work together and become one big happy family, is that it?” Hahn says. “Well, what happens when he double-crosses us, huh?” He points at Jet, who just looks mildly amused. “Or we follow advice from a ten-year-old kid and it blows up in our face?”

“Hey, I’m twelve!” Aang says defensively.

As arguments break out all around her, Katara starts to wonder why she ever thought this would work. This whole thing is slipping through her fingers; she has to do _something_.

“You all came here today because you know something needs to change,” she says, loud enough to shut everyone else up. “The Fire School has had the advantage for over a hundred years, and it’s time to level the playing field, isn’t it?”

There are a few muttered _yeahs_ around the room.

“The people in this room are smart, talented, capable individuals,” she continues, “but most of us aren’t being given the support to reach our true potential.” She takes a step forward, urging them all to listen. “And if our Schools aren’t able to give us that support, then we’ll have to support each other. We need to break the cycle, or one day there will be nothing left.”

The room is quiet when she finishes talking, and then someone from the back starts clapping. A handful of others join in the applause, but it’s weak and awkward. Katara steps back, embarrassed, and Sokka puts a hand on her shoulder.

“The bottom line, folks,” he says, gesturing with his other hand, “is that the Fire School sucks and we need to stick it to ‘em. Am I right?”

More emphatic applause breaks out and Katara deflates even more. Why is this all anyone seems to care about? It shouldn’t be about petty revenge or claiming victory; it’s about righting a horrible imbalance that’s gone on way too long already.

“Alright,” Jet says, leaning back on his elbows against the desk behind him, “so what’s the plan, whizz?”

“I am so glad you asked,” Sokka says, grinning.

Katara slinks back and lets her brother take over. It’s probably for the best this way. She doesn’t even want to be in charge.

You can’t blend in when you’re in charge.

* * *

The team is in worse shape than she thought. Azula isn’t sure how they will possibly win the trial next week, at least not by the sort of points margin she would like. She is surrounded by incompetence all day long and she’s tired of it.

She is also rather hungry, since the practice ran long today and she missed dinner. They all did, technically, and they made sure to let their displeasure be known. But that only kept them there longer, running extra laps.

They bring it upon themselves, really.

She drops her bag off in her room and then makes her way down the hall to Ty Lee’s. She knocks once on the door and tries to push it open, since Ty Lee almost never locks it if she’s in, but it won’t budge. But she couldn’t possibly be out, could she?

The door opens a moment later, and Ty Lee greets her, rosy-cheeked and smiling. “Azula,” she says, as though she’s surprised to see her there. “Are you… back from practice?”

“Yes, and I’m starving,” Azula says curtly. “Let’s go eat.”

“Oh, well, uh, Mai’s here,” Ty Lee says, opening the door wide enough for Azula to see Mai sitting in the nest of cushions, smoothing her hand through her hair self-consciously. Azula scowls.

“Then both of you can come,” she says.

“Um, we thought…” Ty Lee begins timidly. “Well, it seemed like practice was running late, so we already ate,” she says, lowering her head guiltily. “We thought you’d go eat with the rest of the team.”

Azula’s jaw tightens. As if she would go eat with the rest of them.

As if she hadn’t overheard them all talking about getting pizza, and then quieting as soon as they thought she was within earshot. Unfortunately, her ears are better than they give her credit for.

“Well, come along anyway,” she says, holding her head higher. She won’t let this faze her.

“Oh, um—”

“Just go by yourself,” Mai calls out from inside the room. “You’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

Azula’s scowl deepens and she looks at Ty Lee, who has always been easier to break. “I thought you were supposed to have my back,” she says in a low and vaguely menacing voice.

“Of course I do, Azula!” Ty Lee says. “But, um, I’m already hanging out with Mai and—”

“I see.”

“How about you get some food and bring it back here—”

“No,” Azula sniffs. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Azula, wait—” Ty Lee says as Azula walks away.

“Let her go, T,” she hears Mai say, distantly. Azula takes note of the fact that Mai never uses nicknames like that, and this could be a sign of something she’s been dreading for a while.

She flies down the first flight of stairs and then stops on a landing to get out her phone and text her brother. Because she is officially that desperate, now.

 _“Where are you?”_ she texts, since she hasn’t seen him since practice ended. _“Meet me in the dining hall ASAP.”_

 _“I’m busy,”_ reads his response a moment later.

She scoffs. _“Doing what?”_ she asks. It’s not as though he could be doing anything that important, not when he’s been stuck in practice until about fifteen minutes ago.

 _“Working on a project,”_ he says.

_“I need dinner.”_

_“Then get dinner.”_

_“I’m not going by myself.”_

_“Go rope Mai and Ty Lee into it and leave me alone.”_

_“Fine,”_ she replies, typing out her response with harsh stabs at her phone screen. She waits to see if he’ll change his mind, but when it’s clear he’s not, she continues marching down the stairs.

It is fine, anyway. She doesn’t need the company of other people. If anything, she was just being polite. Offering others _her_ company. It’s a goddamn public service.

But it’s fine. She can eat alone. She doesn’t need anyone.

It doesn’t matter that no one seems to need her, either.

* * *

Sokka definitely is not staring when Zuko takes a seat a few rows down from him, in the Earth School arena. He’s not staring, but he just happens to notice that Zuko _isn’t_ sitting a couple seating blocks over, with the rest of the Fire School team.

They’ve just finished their trial, so they all find their seats as the arena gets reset for the next team. The large metal boulder is brought back to its starting position at the side of the arena, pulled along a track by its internal motor. The strength trial is a simple one. The powerful motor pushes the boulder towards the middle of the arena, slowly, and the teams have to use their element bending skills to hold it back and keep it from crossing the threshold at the centre for as long as possible.

The Water School is the only one left to compete today, and Sokka is a little worried for them. The Fire School team managed to hold it back for nearly ten minutes; the best the Earth and Air Schools could do is was about five or six. Even using Sokka’s advice.

He and Aang stand up and cheer for his sister when the team comes out, and Zuko looks over his shoulder at them, frowning. For a moment, Sokka feels guilty. He didn’t cheer for Zuko like that, and they’re, like, friends. Sort of. Maybe. But there’s a difference between cheering for one’s sister and cheering for one’s lab partner, especially when said lab partner is on the opposing team.

Still, he quiets almost instantly and slumps down in his seat.

“I hope this’ll be over soon,” Aang groans next to him, clutching his stomach. “I’m so hungry.”

“Hopefully it won’t be over too soon,” Sokka points out, and Aang laughs apologetically.

“Oh, yeah.”

“By my calculation, they’ll need to hold it for almost fifteen minutes in order to beat the Fire School in total points,” he adds.

As he says it, he realizes it sounds like quite a long-shot. Even with the practicing and group studying they’ve been doing, there’s only so much water available in the Earth School arena. There’s a small artificial pond off to one side, made specifically for this trial, but it still puts them at a disadvantage compared to the other Schools.

The buzzer sounds, and right away everyone on the team gathers to lift all the water out of the pond to block the metal boulder. It’s the usual tactic for such a Trial; it’s about testing the strength of their bending, after all. But there’s nothing in the rules that says they have to do it this way.

“Come on, Katara,” Sokka mutters, sitting forward on the edge of his seat.

He sees Hahn lean over to say something to Katara, who nods and splits off from the group, dragging a hovering orb of water off to one side.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he says, and then, suddenly, “Wait, no—”

Katara has just passed the orb of water to Hahn who takes it and runs around to the backside of the boulder.

“Nooo!” Sokka cries out, standing abruptly. He can tell that Zuko’s turned to look at him again, but he doesn’t care. Because Hahn is shooting the water along the boulder’s track and up inside the motor, freezing it to jam the mechanism. It’s not easy to tell from this angle, right away, but Sokka knows.

He knows because it was his idea.

And it was supposed to be for Katara.

The boulder grinds to a halt, but it keeps straining forward in small jerking motions as Hahn tries to make the ice hold. The others are still trying to force it back with the wall of ice they’ve created in front of it, but it’s easier to hold it off when it’s not ploughing forward at full force.

The cracking ice can be heard all through the stands, and the team struggles to keep it from splitting right through. Sokka silently urges them to hold on a little longer as he periodically glances up at the timer next to the scoreboard. They’ll need to do this for five more minutes to get ahead in points, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to make it.

The boulder is still inching along, getting closer and closer to the threshold, but it jerks forward when the ice inside it breaks, and everyone on the team stumbles back from the sudden force of it. Katara regains her footing swiftly and leans in with everything she’s got, holding it for an extra thirty seconds before it scrapes past the mark in the centre of the arena, and the end buzzer goes off.

Katara drops her arms, and the wall of ice falls to the ground in broken pieces. She’d been the only one holding it up at the end.

Sokka looks up at the scoreboard and blinks. They haven’t earned enough to get them ahead of the Fire School in the totals, but they’ve won the trial. By thirteen seconds.

“Yes!” Sokka shouts, jumping up from his seat with his fist in the air. He slaps his hands together in applause and cheers louder than anyone in their block of seats.

He almost expects Zuko to be glaring at him again, but when he glances a few rows down, he sees that Zuko is watching the arena. And clapping.

For the Water School.

It doesn’t fully compute, for Sokka, but it also doesn’t matter. The Water School won and his sister is a badass, and even though he doesn’t really care about this stuff, he finds he’s honestly, truly happy about it. For once.

“That was so cool!” Aang says excitedly as people start shuffling out of the rows of seats. “Did you see that bit where Katara was like—” He holds his arms out in front of him and makes some sort of buzzing light-sabre type noise.

“Yeah, that was pretty cool,” Sokka says, waiting for the other people in their row to exit so he can too.

When he finally reaches the aisle between seating blocks, he finds Zuko making his way up as well. “Uh, hey,” he says, though he’s not entirely sure if they’re supposed do this. Act like friends when other people can see them. Maybe they’re only secret friends.

Or maybe they aren’t friends at all.

“Hey,” Zuko says with a slight nod. “Good game.”

“Yeah.” Sokka nods as well. “Close one.”

“The ice in the motor was a nice touch,” Zuko adds, the hint of a smile on his face. “I’m surprised someone like Hahn could come up with that.”

“Well, he’s a very clever guy,” Sokka says, even though he knows he’s not fooling anyone.

“I guess so.”

Sokka smiles back a little, and then remembers that he’s not alone. “Oh, uh, this is my friend Aang, by the way,” he says, patting Aang on the shoulder. “And Aang, this is Zuko. He’s my, uh—”

“Lab partner,” Zuko says, and Sokka’s smile fades a little. Lab partner. Not friends. Right.

“You’re from the Fire School,” Aang says, scowling. It’s not a question, despite the fact that it’s a Saturday and Zuko isn’t currently wearing his Fire School uniform. He’s actually wearing jeans, which is a bit of a surprise to Sokka. (The dress code at the Academy does allow for jeans on the weekends, but he still never expected Zuko to wear them, for some reason.)

“Uh, yeah?” Zuko glances at Sokka, like he doesn’t know what else to say to that.

“He’s slightly less awful than the rest of them,” Sokka stage-whispers to Aang.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Sure, no problem, man.” Sokka pats Zuko on the shoulder, too, as he passes him, and continues up the steps towards the exit, Aang hurrying to catch up with him.

“That guy is on the Fire School’s team, right?” Aang asks as they exit the stands and take the winding staircase back down to ground level.

“Yep,” Sokka replies without slowing down.

“I’m sorry you have to be his lab partner,” Aang says after a moment of pensive silence.

“He’s really not that bad. He’s just a guy.”

“But you said that everyone at the Fire School is horrible and a jerk and—”

Sokka turns to face Aang, stopping in the middle of the hallway, causing a few people to curse at him for making them walk around. “Look, I say a lot of things, okay?” he says. “And usually I’m just talking out of my ass.”

Aang snickers the way he does whenever Sokka swears, like he finds it delightful.

“There may be a lot of jerks in the Fire School,” he continues, putting his arm around Aang’s shoulders and leading him out the door, “but there are jerks in the Water School, too. There are jerks everywhere.”

“I guess…”

“And there are also good people everywhere. Well, _okay_ people. _Less awful_ people.”

Aang nods. “Okay. I think I get it.”

“Good.”

“The kids in my Firebending class are pretty mean, though,” he adds.

“That may be, but my point still stands.” Sokka reaches his arms up overhead when they walk outside, trying to stretch out his back after sitting for so long. “You can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“But aren’t book covers designed to give you an idea of what—”

“ _Irregardless_ ,” he says, holding up a finger to silence him, because he knows it will make Aang laugh. And it does. “Sometimes you have to give someone the benefit of the doubt.”

Even if they’re not a friend.

* * *

Control. And power.

The things Zuko prides himself on in his mastery of firebending. But today he was upstaged by his sister yet again.

He had it. He was holding steady, solid. But she decided they needed to take an offensive approach instead of a defensive one. Rather than holding their ground and controlling their fire, it was chaos. She doesn’t understand a thing about how these trials work. And they lost.

Zuko has no interest in this afterparty, either. Instead he goes right past the Fire School dorm and over to the arena. Hardly anyone ever uses it on the weekends, and they’ll all be in the common room by now, boasting about the fact that at least they’re still in the lead overall. As if this isn’t a slippery slope.

He enjoys training without the rest of the team. Without Azula. He can focus on the things that are important. Control and power. Not scheming and chaos.

He sets up the practice target and counts his steps towards the other side of the inner circle of the arena. It’s usually sixty paces, if he takes long, even strides. He’s off by one, today, but it’s close enough.

He fires at the target once, a test shot, to see that it’s properly secured. It wobbles but doesn’t fall over. He adjusts his stance and closes his eyes. He lets the flame in his hands grow until it feels just right, then opens his eyes and fires it at the target in one swift motion. He relaxes his shoulders a little.

Firebending has always been a bit cathartic for him. Lets him get out the things that have nowhere else to go.

He launches another one. _Boom_ —his frustration with Azula and her leadership.

And another. _Boom_ —the way he made a fool of himself in front of Sokka.

 _Boom_ —his anger at his father.

 _Boom_ —his anger at the entire Academy.

 _Boom_ —his anger at himself.

 _Boom_ —

“Zuko?”

He stops himself before firing another, nearly losing his balance when he turns towards the arena entrance behind him. “Uncle,” he says in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” his uncle Iroh says. “Shouldn’t you be off celebrating?”

Zuko looks down and the ground and scuffs it with his shoe. “Nothing to celebrate,” he says.

“What are you talking about? You did great today—”

“But we lost,” he snaps, looking up at his uncle again.

“You still did great, though.”

“Not good enough…”

“Hey, you need to relax, Zuko,” Iroh says, putting an arm over his shoulder. It’s a bit of a reach for him since Zuko’s growth spurt last year. “All this training. You need to have fun, too. You’re just a kid—”

“I’m not a _kid_.”

Iroh smiles at him like he’s naïve. “I know, but you’re young, and you don’t need to worry so much.”

“I’m not worrying,” Zuko grumbles, but he knows his uncle can tell that’s a lie.

“Training is important, but it’s not as important as _living_ , Zuko.”

“I know that.”

“You should be at the party,” Iroh says. “Dance to terrible music. Talk to a pretty girl.”

“I don’t want—”

“Or boy,” he adds quickly.

“That’s not what I—”

“Just do something other than wear out School property.” He motions towards the target that’s now tilting a little.

“Sorry,” Zuko says, his face reddening.

“You’re a good kid—Ah! _Young person_ ,” Iroh corrects himself. “You don’t need to be so hard on yourself all the time. Or so hard on the equipment.”

He knows Iroh is only trying to lighten the mood, but Zuko just nods solemnly.

“Now, you should clear out of here, because I’m about to do my meditation practice, and you don’t want to stick around for that, do you?”

Zuko quirks an eyebrow at his uncle. “You do meditation in the arena?”

“Sure,” Iroh says with a wide smile. “The energy in this place is great.”

* * *

“It’s not about emptying your mind of all thoughts,” Iroh explains as they both sit cross-legged in the very heart of the arena. “It’s about recognizing your thoughts and letting them be, without chasing after them. You have a thought, you say, _‘Hello, thought,’_ and you let it continue on its way. You don’t try to hold on.”

Zuko’s eyes are screwed shut in concentration. “How do I do that?” he says. “How do I see a thought without holding onto it?”

“It takes practice,” Iroh says, “and you’re never going to be perfect at it.”

Zuko grimaces at the thought.

“You’re going to get distracted, and that’s alright. Just bring yourself back to your breath. Back to your inner fire.”

He takes a deep breath and relaxes his face. “My inner fire,” he murmurs to himself.

“It’s the thing that centres you, that grounds you,” Iroh continues, speaking in a slow, calming voice. “Your inner fire will always show you the right path. It will always lead you home.”

“What if I don’t want to go home?” Zuko asks, before he can think better of it.

“Home isn’t where you come from, Zuko,” Iroh explains. “It’s where you belong.”

Zuko has trouble believing he belongs anywhere, anymore. But he takes another steadying breath and tries to follow Iroh’s instructions. See the thought, say hello, and let it go.

_Don’t hold on, don’t hold on, don’t hold on._

It’s hard not to hold onto the thoughts when they feel so important, though. His righteous indignation. The things he should have done differently. The feeling in his gut when he knew—he _knew_ —that the ice trick was Sokka’s idea.

He breathes out and tries to let them all go, but they crowd together and block the exit, fighting to stay in focus.

“Go back to your breath,” Iroh says, like he knows that Zuko is struggling. “Back to your inner fire. Centre yourself, and keep going.”

Zuko brings his attention to his next inhale, the way in feels in his nose, his chest, the fire in his stomach. And the exhale, carrying out all that heat and energy, and the feelings with no other place to go. And for a brief moment, he feels it. Centred.

But then there’s indignation. And regrets. And that _knowing_ —the knowing that tugs at his gut and itches in his skull and makes him feel like he has to _do_ something, _anything_.

But there’s also the inhale again. And the exhale. And just as the thoughts keep cropping up, the breath comes back too, steady and reliable. And he comes back to it, over and over and over.

And his inner fire just keeps burning.

“I have a question,” he asks his uncle when their practice comes to a close.

Iroh nods silently, his motions still slow and serene.

“If—If someone is really good at something,” Zuko says, with a hesitant start. “If it’s something they really enjoy. But they think they’re not good enough to follow it, that they’re better off doing what everyone expects. What… What should they do?”

“Hmm.” Iroh rubs his beard as he ponders his answer. “Well, I would tell them to follow their inner fire. Find what it is that lights them up inside, and let it lead them home.” He smiles a little. “When you are home, the people who matter will support you, whatever your passion or skill level may be. Don’t let the expectations of others lead you astray. See them, and let them go.”

“Right.” Zuko stares off at nothing for a moment before digging his phone out of his pocket. “I just have to look something up,” he says before his uncle can protest. “It’ll take two seconds.”

Iroh shakes his head, chuckling. “Well, that was nice while it lasted.”

* * *

“And in that moment, it was all I could do to just keep it together, you know?” Hahn says to the other Water School students gathered around him, hanging on his every word. “I mean, I could _feel_ it cracking, right? The motor was eating through that ice, and I had to just keep melting and freezing it. And I can hear the others are straining around the other side, and I’m just like, _I’ve gotta hold on, I’ve gotta hold on_. If I let this go, we lose everything.”

Katara and Sokka exchange glances that say they are both _so over_ this dramatic retelling, but everyone else in the Water School common room tonight seems enthralled by it. Admittedly, Hahn can be charismatic when he tries, but most of the time it’s completely clouded by his pigheadedness.

“But the strain got to be too much for the team, right?” he goes on. “And the whole thing jerks forward when they let the block slip. And I’m trying to make the ice inside hold on just a little longer, but without my team, I lose control of it.”

“That is not what happened,” Katara mutters quietly.

“I know,” Sokka mutters back.

“And then, Katara—” Hahn says, his arm outstretched toward her, where she’s standing off to one side of the crowd. Everyone’s eyes land on her and her face heats up. “She stepped in and held the whole thing back for the _fraction_ of a minute we needed in order to squeak by with a win.”

Even though he’s supposedly complimenting her, she can’t help but feel insulted. That _fraction_ of a minute was more than half, and she was doing the work of seven people. But he says it the way one might say that a child helped bake cookies when all they did was hold the wooden spoon.

He looks over at her and nods, like he wants her to say something now.

She isn’t prepared for this.

“Well, it was really a team effort,” she says nervously. “We worked together and supported each other, and I think that made a difference.” A few of her teammates loudly agree, and she smiles a little, some of the pressure lifted.

“And the thing with the motor was really Sokka’s idea,” she adds, putting a hand on her brother’s shoulder beside her. She gives him a shake when he doesn’t say anything and he startles. Apparently he’d been reading something on his phone.

“Sorry, what?” he says, looking at her and then at everyone staring at them. He looks down at his phone again. “I, uh…”

“Are you okay?” she asks him quietly, talking out of the side of her mouth, as if everyone watching won’t be able to tell she’s said anything if she doesn’t move her lips too much.

He snaps his head up again. “Yeah, fine, totally,” he says, a little too emphatically. “I just need to, uh, check something, so. BRB.”

“Wait, Sokka—” she says, but he’s already hightailing it out of there.

“Like Katara said,” Hahn says, drawing attention back to himself again, for which Katara is actually a little grateful, “it was a team effort. And as team captain, I’m proud to foster the kind of environment where we can all come together as a team and really support one another, you know?” He interlaces his hands in front of him, clasping them tightly for emphasis.

He’s managed to make teamwork all about him. Again.

* * *

There’s an electric feeling building inside his chest as takes the stairs up, two at a time. He’s not sure if it’s fear or excitement or just the endless potential within him, but Sokka chases the feeling all the way to his room, where he locks himself inside and throws himself at his laptop.

He finds it under a small pile of (probably clean) clothes and opens it without even sitting down, balancing it on one forearm while he tries to type with his other hand. He soon recognizes this as a bit too precarious of a situation, and drops down into his beanbag chair, swinging his legs up the wall and crossing them at the ankle.

He opens the messaging app on his computer and rereads the message he just received downstairs. It’s from Zuko. A link.

A link to the Admission Requirements page for the Institute of Elemental Technology. Below it, simply: _“I think this is what lights you up.”_

He’s not even a hundred percent sure he knows what that means, but it feels big. Monumental, even. It’s someone saying to him, _“Here’s what you want, now go get it,”_ in a way that no one ever has before.

He doesn’t know if Zuko believes he can actually do this, that he can make it in, but the fact that he’s telling him to try anyway is… big. It’s terrifying; it’s endless potential. It’s electricity in his chest.

He opens the link and skims the main page, too amped up to really soak it all in right now. Which is fine. Because if he read it too closely, he could probably come up with a million reasons why it would be a waste of time to even bother applying to the Institute. And yet Zuko somehow managed to give him a reason to counter any he could come up with.

_I think this is what lights you up._

He leaves the browser tab open but shuts his laptop, resting it on his stomach for a minute as he drops his head back until it hits the floor. When the laptop starts to slide over the front of his hoodie, towards his face, he sets it aside and closes his eyes. Being upside down is calming his nerves a little, but the electricity in his chest is still crackling.

He feels like this, sometimes, when he’s about to figure something out. Come up with a solution so elegant that it makes all the loose pieces fit together, like they were made just for this. But he can’t always tell what it’s going to be, when this feeling hits. He just knows it’s somewhere within him. _Endless potential_.

He _wants_ to believe it, at least, but until recently it’s felt like more of a fantasy than anything truly possible. But these past few weeks, helping with the trials, working on his assignments, he thinks maybe there’s some truth to it after all.

And Zuko sees that.

Sokka pulls his hood over his head and covers his eyes, groaning in frustration. Zuko sees _him_ , and while it’s weirdly validating, it’s also weirdly horrifying. Maybe he doesn’t want to be this easy to read. Maybe he doesn’t want Zuko, of all people, to know what _lights him up_. To have seen it first-hand. Maybe he just wants to be weird and messy in peace.

Still, he picks up his phone and stares at the message again. He can’t help it. He wants to know what compelled Zuko to send such a thing in the first place, and what he could possibly say in return. _Hey, thanks for the link! My soul feels like it’s imploding inward on itself and I might lose my mind, but in a good way!_ Rosy-cheeked smiley emoji.

He contemplates a sincere response, but sincerity always makes him feel like he’s wearing someone else’s skin, so he opts for an incredibly lame, _“lol thanks”_. Because he is literally the finger-guns of people.

He gets a reply a minute later: _“no prob”_

It makes him want to laugh, but he chokes up and it gets caught in his throat. It’s so obvious that Zuko is only pretending to be chill about this—partially because it’s already been established that he has zero chill. But you don’t send someone _“I think this is what lights you up”_ followed by _“no prob”_ if you are at all chill.

Sokka kind of likes that. He can picture the look on Zuko’s face, a scrunched up expression, while he deliberates on what two-word response will—very unconvincingly—make him seem cool about all of this.

So maybe it isn’t so horrifying that that Zuko can see him. Because maybe he can see Zuko too.


	5. Chapter 5

“Ah good, you’re both here.”

Mai breaks her gaze from Ty Lee’s and lowers her head when Azula shows up at their table, unannounced. Ty Lee sits up straighter, very conspicuously, like she’s trying to hide something. Probably the fact that it seemed like she was just about to take Mai’s hand, here in the dining hall.

Mai isn’t sure if she’s disappointed by the interruption or relieved.

“I thought you had early morning training today,” Ty Lee says, her voice even higher than usual.

“Ended rather abruptly when some moron sprained his ankle,” Azula says. “Which is why I’ve come to find you.”

“Shouldn’t you get the nurse instead?” Mai deadpans, without lifting her head, as she pokes at the food on her plate with her fork.

“I’m looking for a replacement,” Azula tells them, an edge of irritation in her voice.

“For the ankle?” Ty Lee asks.

“For the _moron_.”

Mai looks up at her and fixes her with a bored stare. “And you thought of us? Charming.”

“The next trial is a week away, and we can’t afford to fall behind on training while he heals, so he’s off the team for good,” Azula says. “As a result, a spot has opened up.”

“Oh!” Ty Lee says, smiling broadly. “That’s awesome!”

“Seeing as there’s no time to train someone who’s incompetent, I need a talented competitor,” Azula adds. “So naturally, I came to the two of you.”

Ty Lee looks delighted, but Mai knows there must be some sort of catch.

“Either of you would make a fine addition to the team.”

“Wow, Azula, that’s—”

“So meet me in the arena after classes today,” Azula says, raising her voice a notch, “and you can duke it out to see who gets the spot.”

“Wait,” Ty Lee says, her expression dropping, “I don’t want to—”

“I really have to run, though, so I’ll see you girls then.” Azula flashes them a sinister smile and turns on her heel to walk away.

“You should take the spot,” Mai says once Azula’s out of earshot. She stares down at her half-eaten breakfast. Being on the team was something Mai had wanted, once, but after failing the tryouts in her first year, she never bothered again. She’s not about to try again now.

“No, Mai, you should take it,” Ty Lee says. “You’re so good at this stuff, and you’re way more into it than I am.”

Mai blushes at this. “The next trial is the obstacle course,” she says, finally meeting Ty Lee’s gaze again. “That’s more your thing than mine.”

“Yeah, but that’s only one trial.” Ty Lee gives her a sympathetic smile. “Being on the team is like your dream—”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Mai says

“It is, though. And I want you to have this,” Ty Lee says, reaching across the table for Mai’s hand again. “To have a chance to do something I think you’ll really enjoy.”

Ty Lee gives her hand a squeeze before Mai pulls it back. “It doesn’t really matter,” Mai says, and Ty Lee looks hurt. It’s like kicking a puppy, when she makes that face. Mai’s stomach twists.

“It matters to me,” Ty Lee says quietly.

The noise of the dining hall fills the space between them for far too long before Mai replies. “Fine,” she says, and surreptitiously slides her hand back toward the middle of the table. “If it matters that much to you.”

Ty Lee smiles at her, but her eyes are still a little sad. And she doesn’t reach for Mai’s hand again.

* * *

“You’re late,” Azula says when Mai crosses the arena towards her. “And where’s Ty Lee?”

Mai points up towards the stadium seats to her left. Ty Lee is sitting a few rows back, smiling brightly and waving.

“She’ll have to come down here if she wants to compete,” Azula scoffs.

“She doesn’t,” Mai says. “I’m all you’ve got; take it or leave it.”

Azula’s eyes narrow at her friend, but she won’t let this turn of events throw a wrench in her plans. “Well, I hope you came with your A-game anyway, because you still have a lot of work ahead of you if you want to be ready for the trial next week.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, well,” she says, taking her stance and forming a flame in her right hand, palm turned up. “Let’s hope you’ve got enough fire in you.”

Mai takes to the training exercises better than Azula expected; she’s seen what Mai can do in their Firebending classes, but she hadn’t really expected her to be so adept at everything else. The physical stamina and mental endurance. She half expected Mai to wilt after the first round, to just give up, say it’s not worth it.

Since when is anything _worth it_ to Mai?

Azula glances up at Ty Lee in the stands, who’s watching Mai’s every move, completely enraptured. So it’s true, then. This is the last thing Azula needs right now.

She whips her arm out, sending a lashing of fire towards Mai, who gracefully leaps out of the way, not at all thrown by the sudden aggression of the swing.

“Good job,” Azula says, pushing her hair off her face and standing tall. Not as tall as Mai, unfortunately. She reaches out to offer her a handshake. “I think you’ll make a fine addition to the team.”

“Thank you,” Mai says quietly. She accepts Azula’s hand and Azula yanks her closer.

“I suppose Ty Lee just let you have this, then, hm?” she says, her voice low and sharp.

“I guess.”

“That’s awfully sweet of her.” Azula plasters a smile on her face. “She’s such a kind _friend_ , isn’t she? It’s a good thing you aren’t the sort of person to take advantage of that.”

Mai lowers her gaze and pulls her hand away. “Sure.”

“Because Ty Lee would do anything for the people she cares about,” Azula continues. “But anyone who truly cared about her, too, wouldn’t let her give too much of herself away. Would they?”

“I need to get cleaned up for dinner,” Mai says as she turns towards the exit.

“I just hope you appreciate what you’ve been given, Mai,” Azula calls after her. “And I certainly hope you deserve it.”

* * *

Katara’s never visited the Earth School campus before, except for the arena during the strength trial. She’s never been in the residence hall, though, for any School except her own.

The common room here is a lot like the Water School one, in shape and size, but the walls are painted a solid mossy green colour, and the furniture is much less comfortable. She sits on one of the couches with Sokka and Aang, back straight and hands folded in her lap, because there is absolutely no way to settle in and get comfy on this thing.

Either that or it’s the situation that’s got her so tense.

It’s a bit of a co-celebration tonight, after today’s trial. The Earth School won the trial itself, but the Water School pulled ahead in the totals, knocking the Fire School out of first place. Everyone wants to celebrate today. Even the Air School team is here; it’s like the alliance is really working.

Sort of.

The teams themselves seem to have no problem working together, but there are a few clashing egos in the mix. And tonight they are clashing loudly.

“You guys only won that round because you cheated,” Hahn says, liquid sloshing out of his cup when he waves it through the air.

“Excuse me, how was that cheating?” Jet replies, angrier than usual. “There’s nothing in the rules that says we couldn’t use—”

“Oh, _here_ we go!”

“You guys use Sokka’s hacks all the time,” Jet says, and Katara groans inwardly that people are actually calling them that now. She can practically hear Sokka’s satisfied grin next to her.

“That’s because he’s on _our_ team,” Hahn says.

“He’s not, though,” Jet says, gesturing towards them. Katara shrinks in her seat a little. “You won’t even put him on your team.”

She’s pretty sure Sokka isn’t grinning anymore.

“That’s beside the point.” Hahn waves him off, sloshing more of his drink. “He’s Water School. He’s _ours_.”

Sokka’s hands are in tight fists against his knees, and Katara reaches over to give them a quick squeeze. She hates the way they’re talking about her brother, like he’s not even here, like he’s not even a person. Just a tool they can use to win more points. That wasn’t what this was supposed to be about.

“I think we’re losing sight of what matters here,” she says, standing abruptly. Only a few people seem to have noticed, so she holds her head up a little higher and raises her voice. “What matters is that we have a real chance to win this year. All of us.”

The others turn to stare at her and she takes a steadying breath before continuing. “The Earth School’s victory _is_ the Water School’s victory. And the Water School’s victory _is_ the Air School’s victory,” she says. “We’re in this together and we can win this together. Whichever one of us walks away with that plaque at the end of the year, we’ll all know that the Fire School isn’t the only School that matters here. And the administration will have to start taking us seriously.”

“You said it,” Jet says, raising his own cup in the air before taking a swig.

“This isn’t a fucking _kids show_ , people,” Hahn groans angrily. “It’s not going to be all sunshine and rainbows because we’ve decided to hold hands and skip through a meadow instead of compete with each other.”

“Are you too afraid to hold hands and skip, Hahn?” says Jet, leaning casually against a support pillar in the middle of the room.

“Hey, I can hold hands and skip better than any of you—”

“Weird flex, but okay—”

“Come over here and I’ll hold your hand right now, you little—”

“Can we all just _stop_?” Aang shouts, suddenly on his feet next to Katara. “We shouldn’t be fighting with each other!”

“It’s okay, Aang,” Katara says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“No, it’s not okay, Katara.” He looks up at with a wide-eyed expression, frustration mixed with bewilderment. “You’re doing so much for everyone, trying to give everyone a chance, and they’re just—” He screws his eyes shut, like he’s trying to hold in tears, and then breaks away, marching through the throngs of people toward the door.

“Seems your boyfriend’s getting cranky,” Hahn says to Katara. “Did he miss naptime?”

She glares at him, seething, when something inside her snaps. “Fuck you,” she says, and then storms off after her friend. She can hear Sokka’s incredulous laugh behind her, followed by a small yelp, and then he’s rushing up to her side.

They find Aang outside, at the front of the building, sitting on the stone wall right where the grade of the ground makes it low enough for him to hop on. His head is hanging forward as he swings his legs out, back and forth. He looks up when they approach him.

“You were right, Sokka,” he says with an angry pout. “There are jerks everywhere.”

Katara frowns and looks at her brother. “What—”

“But I also said there are good people everywhere,” Sokka says quickly.

“I didn’t see many in there tonight,” Aang grumbles, then quietly adds, “Except you, Katara.”

“I think I know of at least one other good person in there,” Sokka says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Besides me, of course.”

He unlocks it and hits a couple buttons, then turns it around to point the screen at Aang’s face. He’s got the selfie camera turned on.

“There’s one,” he says, a dorky smile on his face. Aang dorky smiles back.

Sokka hops up onto the wall next to Aang on one quick motion, but Katara has to hoist herself up at the other side, her feet scrabbling at the stone as she tries to get leverage. She lets out an exaggerated _phew!_ when she manages to get seated, and Aang laughs.

“I think most of the people in there are just doing the best they can,” she says after a pensive moment. “It’s all any of us can do, really.”

“Yeah, I know…” he says, and then smiles sadly. “I just wish everyone’s best was as good as yours.”

“Cheers to that,” Sokka says, raising his hand, cupped around nothing, as if making a toast. He brings his arm in and mimes tipping back the invisible cup in his hand like he’s drinking a shot. Then he mimes tossing it back over his shoulder and imitates a crashing sound.

He and Aang break into laughter. And Katara smiles; she has some good people.

* * *

This is absolutely ridiculous. He knows that. But for some reason, trying to figure out what to wear has got Zuko’s head spinning.

It’s just a science project, he reminds himself. He’s done this a bunch of times already. But also it’s been over a month since the last time they had to work together outside of class, and he’s worried things will be different now. Since he sent Sokka that link.

He’s seemed his normal self in class—well, maybe not _normal_ , because that’s not a word Zuko would ever use to describe Sokka, but typical behaviour for him. If anything, he’s only gotten more friendly.

But that just makes it worse. Because now Zuko has no idea where they stand. Are they friends? Sokka said they were, but then Zuko had to go put his foot in his mouth after the strength trial. The idea of Sokka calling him a friend _in front of someone else_ made him panic. Like that would make it real, and he’s not entirely sure he could handle _really_ being Sokka’s friend.

He suspects Sokka is pretty hardcore about friendship. Zuko’s heard the way he talks about his real friends. Like he would literally take a bullet for them. Zuko wouldn’t know what to do with that level of dedication. And he can’t imagine being Sokka’s boyfriend would be any less intense.

Not that he should imagine being Sokka’s boyfriend, because that’s even more ridiculous than his current fashion debacle. Only one ridiculous thought spiral at a time, please.

He unbuttons his shirt and rips it off before trying on another, nearly identical shirt. All his shirts are nearly identical, even the ones that aren’t for his School uniform. Which is usually what he wears when he visits Sokka, because he’ll often head there straight from his last class.

_Visit_. Ugh. It’s not _visiting_ , it’s _studying_. He needs to keep that in mind.

Which is why this whole thing should not be this difficult.

He changes his shirt again, but it makes him look like he’s trying too hard. Everything makes him look like he’s trying too hard. Probably because he’s trying too hard.

He throws a sweater over it, and even though it’s not an emblem sweater, it still looks like he’s just come from his classes. And considering that it’s Study Week and there _are_ no classes, that would be absurd. This week is the perfect opportunity for Zuko to show Sokka that he’s not just some stuffy, uniform-wearing, rule-following, overprivileged Fire School kid. Even though he definitely, totally is.

He cycles through a few more options before landing on a different sweater—one he hardly ever wears—but this time over a t-shirt so there’s no collar; it’s much more laid back. Probably. Unless it’s _too_ laid back.

He’s about to rip it off again and start over, when there’s a knock at his door.

“Yes?” he says when he opens the door to find his sister standing there with her training bag slung over her shoulder.

“Come on, we need to practice,” she says. Or commands, rather.

“I thought there was no practice this week,” he says, his brows furrowed.

“For the team, yes,” Azula says. “But as my second-in-command, I need to make sure you and I are on the same wavelength going into the final Autumnal Trial. We can’t afford to lose again.”

“Since when am I your second-in-command?” he asks. “Since when do you even have a second-in-command?”

“Since now,” she snaps. “Now get your stuff and let’s—“ She stops to give him a once-over. “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes?” he says, but for a split second he worries that maybe that’s not true. She wrinkles her nose. He looks down at his sweater and smooths his hands over the front. “What’s wrong with this?”

“Nothing, if you’re on a tropical vacay.”

“It’s a _sweater_ , Azula.”

“It’s pink,” she says.

“It’s red,” he says. He looks at it again. _Sort of_.

“A very light red.”

He makes a frustrated noise and the back of his throat. “I don’t have time for this, I have to be somewhere.”

“Yes, you have to be at the arena with me, training,” Azula says.

“No, actually,” he replies, stepping back into his room to grab his coat and bag, “I need to work on an assignment with someone.”

She frowns and crosses her arms, leaning against the door frame as he wraps a scarf around his neck. “With _whom_?” she asks, stressing the M at the end of the word.

“My lab partner.” He motions for her to step aside so he can leave his room, and she does so grudgingly.

“You’ve had a lot of assignments with this _lab partner_ this term, haven’t you?” she says, scrutinizing him as he locks up.

“Blame the instructor for assigning them,” he says, even though that’s not entirely true. Yes, the instructor assigns them, but most of them can be completed during class time, or at least divided up and worked on separately. But Sokka is so, well, _extra_ about this stuff, that he insists on more of these sessions than would otherwise be necessary. And Zuko isn’t complaining about that.

“They aren’t in the Fire School, obviously,” she adds.

“Correct.” He shoves his keys into his pocket, adjusts his bag, and heads off down the hall, Azula trailing after him.

“Are you at least going to tell me what School they’re in?”

“Nope.”

“It’s not some Air School hippie, is it?”

“I am not telling you anything, Azula.”

“Aw, Zuzu, I’m only curious about your life, is all,” she says mockingly.

“Just get lost,” he says as she follows him down the stairs, and she stops suddenly, a few steps up from the bottom. This surprises him and he glances back at her. For a second, he could almost swear she looked hurt.

But any trace of such a thing soon vanishes, and she just glares at him. “I suppose this means I’m the only one who cares about the next trial, then.”

“You know what,” he says, “maybe you are.”

He adjusts his bag on his shoulder and continues out the front of the building and into the crisp November air. He does care about the trial—of course he does. But he cares about this too.

His… lab partner.

* * *

“Oh!”

They’ve just walked into his room, and Sokka is surprised to see that Zuko is wearing a pink sweater, when he takes off his coat. Sokka squints at him for a second, and then decides it might be more of a light red.

A similar shade to Zuko’s face right now.

“Oh?” he says, freezing with his arms still in his coat sleeves.

Yeah, that probably wasn’t the most polite reaction Sokka could have had, but he’s used to seeing Zuko in a uniform—either his School’s or his team’s—not cozy sweaters and scarves. It’s the first really cold week of the term, though, so sweaters and scarves have been making appearances everywhere these days. It really shouldn’t be all that scandalizing.

“Oh, uh… Nice sweater,” Sokka says, after blanking out for what was possibly a full minute. Zuko looks even more worried for a second, so he quickly adds, “No, I’m serious. I know I sound sarcastic, but—”

“It’s fine,” Zuko says stiffly. He drapes his coat over his arm and pulls off his scarf as he looks around the room for some place to put them.

Sokka knows he should offer to take those for him—not that he would know where to put them either—but he’s distracted by the dip in Zuko’s neck, at the base of his throat, that is not currently covered up by one of his stuffy collared shirts. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sokka vaguely wonders if this is how Victorians felt every time they glimpsed an ankle or whatever.

“Sokka?” Zuko says, and Sokka becomes aware that he’s missed whatever Zuko had said before that.

“Hm?” Sokka replies, blinking rapidly to keep from staring.

“Can I put my stuff over there?” Zuko asks, motioning towards the beanbag chair at the side of the room.

“Oh, pfft, yeah, of course,” Sokka says, waving him off. “You can throw your stuff anywhere; I clearly do.”

“Mm-hm,” is Zuko’s only response as he goes to set his things down, and Sokka thinks maybe he should feel a bit insulted.

Sokka kicks off the shoes he’d put on to go downstairs and let Zuko into the building, letting them land on the floor wherever they may, while Zuko crouches down to undo his own laces. It shouldn’t be weird. Zuko has taken his shoes off in here plenty of times before. But he doesn’t usually look like _that_ when he does it. Seeing him like this with only socks on his feet would probably be a coziness overload. Sokka might actually have to hug him. (He kind of definitely wants to touch that sweater.)

“I have a thing to show you!” he blurts out, practically squawking. Because he needs to do something before he, well, _does something_.

Zuko pauses at the laces on his second shoe and looks up at him. “Um. Okay…?”

“It’s a good thing,” Sokka assures him quickly. “I think you’ll like it. Er, well, I think it’s a good thing? You’ll probably think it’s a good thing. I mean, I hope. But you might not? But it is good. For me. But maybe also for you, because it was your idea to—”

“What are you babbling about?” Zuko says, smiling with half of his mouth. As though he thinks Sokka’s being an idiot, but in a cute way.

Well, probably not _cute_ , but. Endearing? Amusing? The opposite of when people think he’s being an idiot in a way that makes them want to strangle him.

Sokka grimaces comically and makes a strained noise. He shouldn’t have said anything yet. “Okay, I was going to wait to show you until after we did the thing—the project, I mean—but…”

He finds his laptop buried under the mess of blankets on his bed and takes a seat. He thinks maybe he is being an idiot, because this is so not as big a deal as he’s just made it out to be. But it’s sitting right there on his laptop screen as soon as he opens it. And now Zuko is sitting right there, on his bed, facing him. There’s a familiar electric buzz in his chest. And he’s finally doing something about it.

He turns his laptop around and shoves it into Zuko’s hands, so he can see it for himself. This seems to startle him, and he nearly drops it before setting it down to balance on his knee.

His eyes flit across the screen and Sokka bites on his lip as he waits for a reaction. It’s taking longer than he expected; Zuko is reading the whole thing. The five-page PDF document. When all he really had to do was read the title at the top.

“Okay, yeah, I guess it’s not that big a deal—” Sokka says as he yanks the laptop back and snaps it shut, before Zuko can finish. He tosses it to the bed next to him with a nervous laugh. “Anyway—”

“It is a big deal,” Zuko says, looking at him with a serious expression.

“It is?”

“Yeah.” He smiles a little. “I’m really happy for you, man.”

“Well, I didn’t get _in_ yet,” Sokka says, scratching the back of his neck. “I just requested the form. I’m pretty sure they send that to anyone who asks to apply—”

“Yeah, but you took that step.” Zuko’s smile grows wider. “You decided it was worth going for it. That’s great. Isn’t it?”

“I guess?”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“Uh, just you,” Sokka says, but holds himself back from saying that he sort of wants this to be their thing and no one else’s. Because that’s just fucking weird, and he has no idea why he feels that way.

Zuko’s smile turns a bit shy and he looks away, giving Sokka a perfect opportunity to stare at the neckline of his sweater again. Which is also fucking weird.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” he adds, only half-joking. “Might still end up stuck with me. Seems my Waterbending grades are not quite high enough, so—”

“So you’ll work on that,” Zuko says. “Now that you have an actual reason to do it.”

“I dunno if—”

“I’ll help you,” he adds, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Whatever it takes, we can do this. _You_ can do this.”

And Sokka actually believes him.

“What else is on the application?” Zuko asks, reaching over to grab the laptop, but Sokka snatches it back.

“Wait,” Sokka says, hugging it to his chest. “You’re just going to laugh.”

“What? I am not going to laugh,” Zuko says, although he laughs a little on the last word.

“If you see everything I have to do in order to apply, you’ll think I’m a fool for even trying,” Sokka says, but he tries to keep his tone light. Like maybe he’s only joking, who can tell?

“I will not think that. I just said I wanted to help.”

“I’m not sure how you can help, anyway,” Sokka says as he relinquishes the laptop.

“Well, like the waterbending thing, for starters,” Zuko says, scooting over to sit with his back against the wall, legs outstretched and crossed. “I could help you practice more.”

“And how are you going to help with _waterbending_ , Mr. Fire-Man,” Sokka says, moving over to Zuko’s side. “Er, wait—”

“What better way to test waterbending than against fire?” Zuko smirks a little, but keeps reading through the application.

“Good point,” Sokka says, bumping Zuko’s arm with the back of his hand in a way that he hopes comes off as casual, and not like he’s discreetly trying to find out if the sweater is as soft as it looks.

It is.

* * *

Ty Lee is fast—faster than Azula remembers—and Azula really has to stay on her toes to keep up with her.

She’d run out of people to train with this week, since half the team went home for the study break, and the other half is, well, studying. Ty Lee was the only person left at the School willing to help.

Normally, Azula has no trouble training on her own, if she must. But the next trial is agility, which is easier to train for with a partner.

“Maybe you should have been on the team instead,” Azula says when they stop to regroup, swiping away a strand of hair of stuck to her face with sweat.

“Instead of what?” Ty Lee asks. She’s bent forward with her hands on knees, breathing heavily, so at least her supernatural speed and reflexes seem to require _some_ amount of effort.

“Instead of Mai,” Azula says. She glances over to gauge her friend’s reaction, and is pleased to see she looks a bit guilty. “I still don’t understand why you just let her have it, when you had just as good of a chance.”

“Because she wanted it and I wanted her to be happy,” Ty Lee explains, standing straighter.

“And why didn’t she want you to be happy, then?”

She looks at Azula quizzically, but smiles. “I am happy.”

Azula stretches out her back where’s she’s begun to develop an ache. “Yes, but why didn’t she want you to have the same opportunity?” she says. “Seems that, if she cared about your happiness as much as you care about hers, she would have insisted you take the spot. Or at least give you a chance to earn it.”

“But… She did.”

“Did she? Because to me, it looked like she just let you step aside for her.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Listen,” Azula adds, stepping close enough to rest a gentle hand on Ty Lee’s shoulder. “I know the two of you have gotten… _close_ lately,” she says, and Ty Lee’s face flushes even more than it did from the training. “But I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

“I’m not getting hurt.” Ty Lee looks like she’s trying to seem cheerful, but there’s hesitance in her voice. “And Mai does care about me.”

“Oh, I’m sure she does,” Azula says with a patronizing lilt. “Though I can’t help but notice that she went home for the break and didn’t even offer to bring you along, even though she knows you won’t be able to go see your family until Winter Solstice.”

“But I don’t mind—”

“And I’ve also noticed that she— Well…” Azula lowers her gaze, feigning shyness. “If I weren’t such a close friend to you, I might not have even know that the two of you were…” She glances up at Ty Lee’s eyes, which are now wide, waiting for the shoe to drop. “All I’m saying is, she’s not very affectionate with you in public, is she?”

“I—I mean I guess she just—”

“Oh, but I’m not saying she’s _ashamed_ of you or anything,” Azula adds quickly. “I mean, she was hardly more affectionate in public with Zuko—” She can see the fear creeping into the back of Ty Lee’s mind, as though it were playing across her face like a movie. “Then again, we all know how that ended…”

“She—She doesn’t have to hold my hand or—or kiss me in public,” Ty Lee says, almost like she’s trying to reassure herself, “to prove she cares. Right? I know it when I’m with her, I—”

“I believe you, Ty Lee, of course I do.” Azula’s lip twitches into a victorious smirk involuntarily but she smooths out her expression quickly. “If you think there’s nothing to worry about, then… Then there’s probably nothing to worry about.”

“Right…”

“Well,” she adds, dropping her hand from Ty Lee’s shoulder. “I think we’ve done enough for one day. We should pack up.”

On their way back to the residence hall, Azula types out a text, flawlessly, while walking at a brisk pace.

_“When you get back, we need to talk,”_ she sends to Mai. _“About Ty Lee.”_

* * *

Mai can’t sleep. Not after her conversation with Azula, as soon as she returned to the Academy. She’d barely had a chance to set her bags down before Azula was breathing down her neck to _have a chat_ with her.

And now Mai feels frayed, all raw edges and uncertainty. She stayed in her room all evening, feigning a headache when Ty Lee tried to see her. Which was probably the absolute wrong thing to do, but it felt… safer. After what Azula told her, Mai thought she was one false move away from unraveling her entire relationship with Ty Lee, and she wouldn’t know how to put it back together.

She wasn’t even sure if she should try.

It’s nearly two in the morning by the time she slips down to the common room to make herself some tea. There’s no one else around this time of night; most of the students in the School are—hideously—morning people, and go to bed at what one might call a reasonable hour. Mai is one of the few whose insomniac tendencies have her slinking about in the dark, in the dead of night.

She had turned on the light right over the sink of the kitchenette in the corner of the room, but as she’s waiting for the kettle to boil, one of the main lights flicks on overhead, startling her.

“Oh,” says a voice behind her. Another student with insomniac tendencies.

“Hey,” she says, barely glancing over her shoulder. She knows who it is anyway.

“I— I figured you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow,” Zuko says as he steps up beside her and sets his mug on the counter next to hers.

She doesn’t respond to him and he doesn’t seem to expect her to.

“Chamomile?” he asks as he unwraps a teabag and lowers it into his mug. She knows he’s not talking about his own.

“Mm-hm.” Mai flicks the little tag hanging over the side of her mug with her finger. The label was facing inward; he didn’t even have to read it to know. He knows her that well.

“Can I ask—” she starts, but cuts herself on off when her voice comes out hesitant, nearly cracking.

Zuko glances sideways at her. “What?”

She exhales forcefully and flicks at the tag again. “Nothing,” she mutters.

“I mean,” he says as he starts flicking at the tag hanging over his own mug, “the answer is yes. You can ask. Anything.”

“I just…” The kettle starts to grow louder and she has to raise her voice a little. “When we were dating,” she says, and his hand stills against his mug. “Did you… Did you think that I—that I cared about you?” The words sound so cringey coming out of her mouth, but she doesn’t know how else to say it.

Zuko seems to tense at her side. “Did you?” he says.

“I’m asking what you thought,” she says.

“I… Yeah, “ he says after a pause. “I thought you did.” There’s a bitter edge to his words that doesn’t quite seem to fit, until he speaks again. “Not enough, clearly. But still—”

Her head snaps up to look at him. “What do you mean, _not enough_?” Her voice is even louder now, even though the kettle has already started to go quiet again, as it reaches a boil.

“Well, you dumped me, so I had to draw my own conclusions.”

“That’s not—” She stops herself from explaining. She doesn’t owe him anything. She doesn’t have to tell him that she broke up with him _because_ she cared. Because she was scared of hurting him. And somehow she did anyway.

But maybe she _didn’t_ care enough. Maybe she _couldn’t_. Maybe she was fundamentally incapable of caring enough for another person that she wouldn’t hurt them. Maybe she was just designed to burn everything down.

She turns and heads for the door before she does something stupid, like beg for forgiveness or—god forbid— _cry_. But Zuko calls after her.

“What about your tea?” he says, his volume gentle but his tone still bitter.

“I hate tea,” she grumbles, without looking back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates today. Make sure you read chapter 5 first.

“You have to stand like this,” Zuko says, widening his stance in demonstration. “It improves the flow of energy.”

Sokka tries to copy him, but can’t seem to get the angles of his feet right. “You’re so full of shit,” he says with a laugh, though he’s frustrated with himself for not getting it. “How would you know anything about waterbending stances?”

“My uncle Iroh sometimes teaches me about other element bending techniques,” Zuko explains, holding up his arms in a way that Sokka hopelessly tries to emulate. “It can help to think about things from other perspectives.”

Sokka is caught off-guard by this; it’s exactly the sort of thing _he_ would say. He’s not sure why he’s so surprised that Zuko might feel the same way about it, though.

“For waterbending, it’s all about the flow,” he continues, and his arms move with a grace and co-ordination that Sokka can hardly fathom.

He reaches out to do the same, but his stance is all wrong and he has to windmill his arms to keep from toppling over.

“Here, you’ve gotta move your left leg back a bit,” Zuko says, dropping his arms as he walks over to Sokka, who has managed to—heroically—regain his balance.

Sokka does as he’s instructed, but it’s seventy-eight percent more embarrassing when Zuko is standing right over him, scrutinizing his every move.

“And move your right leg over more to widen your stance,” Zuko instructs. Sokka slide his right foot forward more, and it nearly slips out from under him. Zuko catches him by the arms before he can slide too far. “I meant over to the _right_ ,” he says. “ _Widen_ your stance, not _lengthen_ it. You, of all people, should understand the distinction.”

“And you, of all people, should understand that I have zero bodily co-ordination,” Sokka replies, which is much less the scathing comeback than he had hoped. He’s also not sure why he claimed that Zuko, _of all people_ , should have a better understanding of that than anyone else. Though he very well might.

He certainly will, after this is over, anyway.

“No kidding,” Zuko says, a small chuckle in his voice, but Sokka doesn’t bother to respond because he’s too busy trying to get his legs back in the right position—and Zuko is still holding him by the elbows, like he’s a child learning to ice-skate, which is a touch more humiliating than he would prefer, at the moment.

Zuko nudges Sokka’s foot with his to turn his toes out, and the two of them end up so close that Sokka has to bite his tongue to keep from making a joke about how _intimate_ this is, since that type of joke would be a lot funnier if his heart weren’t sort of losing its mind in his chest right now.

So this is awkward.

“Right, okay, yeah,” Sokka says, all but shoving Zuko aside. “I think I got it, yeah.”

“Try it again with the water,” Zuko tells him, taking a few more steps back. “And try not to splash me.”

“No promises.”

After several more failed attempts, Sokka manages to bend water out of the moat and into the air, and then put it back, without dropping it this time. (One time he dropped it awfully close to Zuko’s foot; there may have been some casualties.)

Then Zuko suggests they put Sokka’s waterbending to a real test, against his firebending.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think I’m ready to, like, defend myself against fireballs hurtling at my face,” Sokka says, laughing in a way that does not at all mask his fear.

“I wasn’t going to fire them at your face,” Zuko says, like he’s offended Sokka would even think that of him. “I was going to fire them at your shoes. Make you hop around.”

“What?”

Zuko’s face splits into a grin and Sokka feels a mix of embarrassment and pride that Zuko totally just got him there.

“You, my friend, are a bastard,” Sokka says, and he makes a bit of water from the moat splash up towards Zuko’s own shoes, but it doesn’t quite reach. “Dammit.”

“Do _not_ get my shoes again,” Zuko says, pointing at him accusingly. He then goes on to explain his idea to stick a torch in the centre of the platform, light it, and have Sokka try to put it out with water from the moat.

“That far?” Sokka asks incredulously. “Couldn’t we start with, like, a few feet away?”

“High stakes, high reward,” Zuko says as he plants the torch into the ground.

“But what if I end up dumping all the water on myself when I try to bring it over?”

“That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“Jeez, Zuko,” Sokka says, as he takes his waterbending stance again. “If you wanted to see me in a wet t-shirt so bad, just say so.” He’s already lifting some of the water out of the moat when he glances over at Zuko and finds him looking mortified. “Dude, I was kidding, I— _Oh shit_.” He sidesteps quickly before the water he forgot he was supposed to be _bending_ falls to the ground, but it gets him in the arm anyway and his sleeve is soaked.

When he looks over again, Zuko is laughing.

Sokka manages to get the water over to the torch on the third try and snuffs it out. The Zuko lights it again, making the flame bigger this time, and it takes two more tries for Sokka to put it out.

“You’re getting a lot better,” Zuko says to him when he puts it out for the fifth time.

“You think?”

“You’ll definitely be able to get your grades up for the application,” he adds, preparing his own stance to light the torch again.

“Well, there’s other stuff too,” Sokka says. “Like, I have to come up with the _life hack_ part, and I still have no ideas.”

Zuko grimaces. “Please don’t call it that.”

“Fine, the ‘creative solution to an everyday problem’ part,” Sokka says with exaggerated air quotes. It’s meant to be a written proposal included with the application to IET, an idea for an unconventional use of element bending to solve some sort of common or important problem.

He’d considered submitting one of his ‘hacks’ from the trials, but nothing felt right to him. He wanted it to be simple yet elegant; he wanted to make something out of what seems like nothing. He wanted to find the endless potential within something that usually goes overlooked.

“Not sure I can help you there,” Zuko says, lighting a fire in his hand and twirling it around a little, just for fun. “I’m kind of useless when it comes to that sort of stuff.”

Sokka stares at the flame in Zuko’s hand, watching it carefully. The movement of it, the ever-changing boundaries between it at the air around it. And a thought occurs to him.

He smiles, his eyes still fixed on the flame. “You might not be as useless as you think.”

* * *

“Still working on your _science project_?” Azula asks, stopping Zuko when he walks in the front door of the residence hall.

He looks surprised and confused to see her. “Where did you—”

“I thought only exams were left,” she continues, tilting her head to one side, pretending that she’s the one who’s confused. Even though she never is. “What could you possibly be working on?”

Zuko adjusts his bag and takes a step forward to shoulder past her, but she blocks him. “I was studying with a friend,” he says through his teeth, and then quickly adds, “Er, lab partner.”

“Of course,” she says with a sympathetic pout.

“Why does it even— And how did you—” he says, looking at her like he’s trying to figure her out. “Were you watching from the window or something? How did you know I was here—”

“Pure coincidence, brother,” she says. “I was just going for a walk—” She remembers she’s not wearing a coat. “—Around the common room. Stretch my legs. Clear my head.”

“Right.”

“Maybe you should clear your head too,” she adds. “Because if your head’s not in the game next week, and we lose yet another trial—”

“My head is in the game,” he says, clearly frustrated. She can tell she’s close to a sore spot, so she keeps prodding.

“I just worry about you spending so much time with… the wrong people,” she says. “You can’t trust anyone in the other Schools, Zuko, you know this. Studying is one thing… But _fraternizing_ —”

“I am not _fraternizing_ ,” he snaps. “Also, you sound like Father—”

“Well, maybe we’re both just looking out for you!” she snaps back.

“I appreciate your concern,” he says dryly, “but I don’t needit.”

“They all want to see you fail,” she adds, raising her voice more than she would like. “Everyone in the other Schools, they’re just waiting for you to screw up—”

“And aren’t you?” he asks pointedly. “Aren’t you just waiting for me to screw up so bad that Father gives up on me? You’d get to be the clear favourite—”

“I already am the clear favourite!” she practically shouts. She’s not even sure if this is true, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Zuko’s expression goes cold and she knows she’s won, but the victory—like so many others lately—feels hollow. “Then what do you care who I _fraternize_ with?” he says, any emotion in his voice deadened. “Go find your minions and leave me alone.”

He finally pushes past her to head up the stairs, and she lets him.

* * *

“ _Azula_ ,” Zuko says angrily as they exit the flaming agility course in the middle of the arena. He tries to get his sister’s attention again but she ignores him.

He jogs to catch up with her, and reaches for her shoulder to stop her before they’re meant to veer off towards the separate changing rooms. She turns and smacks his hand away almost immediately, glaring at him. He glares back.

“What the fuck was that about?” he snaps.

“You startled me,” she says, even though she’s clearly lying.

“I mean in there.” He gestures back towards the arena. “Those last points were _mine_ , Azula. I’m the one who got the flame all the way to—”

“Well, I wasn’t sure I could trust you,” she says simply. “We couldn’t risk you making a misstep. Once false move and…” She lowers her gaze briefly and then looks pointedly at his scar.

“You know that I _had_ it,” he argues. He can feel his face growing hot, with rage and embarrassment, but he refuses to back down. “When you cut in and— We almost lost— _again_.’’

“But we didn’t,” she says, relaxing her posture, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “So why don’t we just chalk it up to a team effort and celebrate the win, hmm?”

She turns and keeps walking before he can even think of something to say, and he just seethes at the back of her head. When he goes to turn the other way, he notices Mai coming up the hallway behind him; she must have been trailing behind the rest of the team all this time.

“Can you believe her?” he says, gesturing emphatically with his arm. Mai blinks at him slowly, like she’s bored already. “She stole points from everyone.”

“Okay,” Mai says flatly.

This just angers Zuko more. “She stole points from _you_.”

“And?”

“And— Don’t you _care_?”

“Not enough, apparently,” she says, and it takes a second for her words to truly register for him.

“Oh,” he says, the anger in his gut making space for shame to creep in and join the party. “Mai, I—”

“You know what the good thing about not caring is?” she interrupts him. “I don’t have to listen to whatever you’re going to say.”

“Wait,” he says as she turns to follow Azula’s path, “Mai, come on, I just—”

She doesn’t stop for him, or even slow down—or give him any indication that she’s going to listen at all.

He’s not entirely sure what her problem is. Maybe it was rude of him to say she didn’t care enough about him, but what else was he supposed to think? If she’d cared, she wouldn’t have left him. If she’d cared, they wouldn’t have broken up, and he wouldn’t have had to spend the entire Spring term last year eating dinner at the Central Dining Hall, just to avoid the one on their campus. He wouldn’t have had to see the Water School boy at the table in the corner—the boy who seemed unable to speak without use of both hands to gesticulate wildly—every day, and he wouldn’t have developed a humiliating infatuation with him, that now threatens to unravel the actual friendship they could have had.

It was obvious that Mai didn’t care about _any_ of that.

* * *

“We can’t let this happen again, folks,” Hahn says seriously, looking out at the faces of the people crowded around him for his traditional afterparty speech. The mood is decidedly less celebratory this time, even though they still have the highest point total—sort of.

The Fire School’s victory this afternoon brought their score back up enough to tie with the Water School. Katara thinks they should recognize what an accomplishment this has been for them anyway, but Hahn seems to only want to focus on the fact that they lost the round.

“We are going to train harder than ever in the Winter term,” he continues, smacking his fist against his open palm. He seems to think he’s giving a motivating speech, but Katara can’t help but feel that it’s more of a demoralizing lecture. “We are going to do our best— _better_ than our best. Our best is clearly not good enough—”

“And whose fault is that?”

Katara whips her head to stare her brother down. She has no idea why Sokka would think getting into an argument with Hahn tonight would be a good idea, but he appears to ignore her disapproving glare.

“Oh, I dunno,” Hahn says, “maybe the guy who’s been feeding us all these stupid _hacks_ , that only work half the time anyway.”

“They work every time Katara does them,” Sokka says, pointing at Katara next to him with his thumb. Katara’s face heats up.

If it’s possible, Hahn’s expression turns angrier.

“I mean, come to think of it,” Sokka continues, an exaggeratedly pensive look on his face as he rubs his chin with his thumb and forefinger, “Katara’s scored the most points of anyone on the team so far.”

“Sokka—” she warns. This is exactly the sort of _showing off_ she wanted to avoid this year. It’s been hard enough for her to make any friends as it is.

“And I commend her for that,” Hahn says, standing with his shoulders back, “but we still need to—”

“And if I recall correctly—” Sokka keeps talking as though Hahn hasn’t said a thing. “—You, Mr. Team Captain, didn’t score _any_ points this round. Is… Is that right?” He cocks his head and frowns, with obviously feigned curiosity.

“The Trials are about _teamwork_ —” Hahn says, and Sokka barks out a laugh, cutting him off.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, waving his hand like he’s clearing the air, “it’s just, most of your speeches are about how _you_ led the team to victory, or _you_ held everything together, when in actuality—”

“ _Sokka_ ,” Katara says again, more harshly. He looks at her this time. “Let it _go_.”

“He has a point,” someone says, but there are too many people in the way for Katara to see who it is.

“Thank you—” Hahn says, turning to them.

“I—I meant the Hack Guy,” they add, a bit more timidly, but a few people express their agreement.

Katara pointedly does not look at her brother, because she can already picture the smug look on his face at being called “the Hack Guy”.

“So, what, then?” Hahn says, raising his voice above everyone else’s in the room. “What, you want her to be team captain?” He thrusts his arm out towards Katara and all eyes land on her, like a thousand little mosquitos biting at her skin.

“I mean, it’s what I would do, if I were you guys,” Sokka says, pressing his hand to his chest while he wraps his other arm around his sister’s shoulders. She tenses up. “Katara is the best—”

“I’m not!” Katara spits out, pushing Sokka’s arm away. “I’m not the best! I’m just like everyone else! Everyone else works hard too, and I’m just—” She clamps a hand over her mouth when her voice catches, and her vision starts to blur. But she is absolutely not going to cry right now.

Sokka stares at her, wide-eyed, both his hands hovering over her shoulders like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to try to comfort her right now. It’s probably for the best; she’s not sure either.

She lowers her own hand and blinks around at all the people staring at her. So much for not being an attention-grabbing show-off—although she wouldn’t describe this, right now, as _showing off_. “S—Sorry, I—” she begins, looking down and shaking her head.

“No, you’re right, Katara,” Sokka says to her seriously, and his words surprise her enough that she looks back up at him quickly. “Everyone else works hard too, it’s true. And,” he adds, stepping back enough to turn towards the others, “maybe you all deserve a captain who sees that. Who recognizes that you have value beyond making them look good.”

“Sokka, don’t—” Katara says quietly, tugging on her brother’s sleeve.

There’s more agreement from around the room, and Katara glances nervously at Hahn. He looks as though he can’t understand how this could be happening and, frankly, neither can she.

“Fine!” he finally says, addressing the crowd as he throws his arms up. “Live in your little fantasy world all you like! But when you all return after winter break, and realize how much work we still have to put in if we want to win, you’ll be thankful to have someone like _me_ as your team captain. Someone who knows how to lead. Someone who can handle the pressure.” He turns his head and looks right at Katara, glaring. “Someone who never. Cracks.”

* * *

Every once in a while, the door to the building opens, and Mai can hear music pouring out, reaching them all the way in the quiet corner of the garden, by the (empty) duck pond. It’s too cold to be out here this time of year, really, but it’s better than being inside with everyone else.

With Ty Lee snuggled against her side, it’s not so unbearable. It might even be pleasant.

But Mai feels like a horrible person for thinking it. For _taking advantage_ , as Azula so kindly put it. Taking advantage of Ty Lee’s affection and dedication and using it for—what? Staying warm?

It nags at the back of her mind, that Azula is just being ridiculous. Mai does care about Ty Lee, she knows that. She’s certain of it, as she hugs her closer with her arm around Ty Lee’s shoulders. But perhaps that’s not the issue.

She cares, but does she— _can she_ —care enough?

In her two years hopelessly pining over her best friend, she only ever really thought about herself. About what she wanted. About how it affected her. She distanced herself by dating Zuko for a few months, thinking she might try to move on, without a moment to think about how Ty Lee felt about it. She never even gave Ty Lee a chance.

That’s something a heartless person would do. Turn her back on her best friend and use another friend to get over her. She thought she cared about Ty Lee—she thought she cared about _Zuko_. But if she really cared about him, she never would have dated him in the first place. Their friendship hasn’t been the same since then.

And now she’s making the same mistake with Ty Lee. Thinking that the amount she cares for her is _enough_ , when it never will be.

She lets her arm slip down from Ty Lee’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Ty Lee says, lifting her head. The motion must have stirred her. “What’re you thinking about?” She asks it so happily, so earnestly, that it feels like a knife to the gut.

When was the last time Mai asked Ty Lee such a thing?

“Nothing,” Mai says, staring down at the shimmering pond to avoid her friend’s—her _girlfriend’s_ —eyes.

“Are you looking forward to going home and seeing your baby brother?” Ty Lee asks, not at all dismayed by Mai’s response. “He’s getting so big, isn’t he?”

Mai shrugs slightly. “I saw him a month ago,” she says. “He’s… a baby.”

“But babies are soooo cute,” Ty Lee says, and buries her face in Mai’s scarf.

“I guess.”

Ty Lee looks up at her again. “Is your dad coming home for the Solstice?”

“Doubt it,” Mai says tersely. “Since he was just home a month ago.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine.”

“Do you—Um, do you want to come to my house?” Ty Lee asks, a bit hesitant.

Mai finally looks at her. “What d’you mean?”

“For Solstice dinner,” Ty Lee says. “Or—Or just for part of the break? I know it’s harder to visit after my family moved, but maybe there’s a train—”

“I can’t.” Mai swallows the lump in her throat. “I’m… We have relatives visiting. I have to be home.”

“Oh.” There’s unmistakable disappointment in Ty Lee’s voice. “Okay.”

“I would invite you over instead,” Mai adds, hoping the lie will spare Ty Lee’s feelings, “but there won’t be room. I have to give up my bed for my grandmother.”

“That’s okay,” Ty Lee says, holding a smile on her face bravely.

For a brief moment, Mai wonders what she would have to do to make Ty Lee cry right now. It’s not saying much, Ty Lee will cry at anything. But she’s trying so hard to hide her disappointment, it makes Mai curious just how far she would go before she—

And this is not the sort of thing a caring person would think. This is not the sort of thought that Mai would have if she truly cared _enough_ for Ty Lee. But her best isn’t good enough. Her best is this.

The thing she realizes, as she brings her arm up to squeeze Ty Lee’s shoulders again, is that she’s not even sure she cares enough about Ty Lee to truly let her go.

* * *

Sokka freezes half way down the hall. There’s a boy sitting outside his room.

Katara pulls up next to Sokka and stops when he puts his arm out to block her way. Then she sees the boy too. “Is that—” she asks, but she doesn’t need to finish the question because Sokka just nods.

The boy looks up and sees them, and Sokka wonders if maybe he should be running away very, very fast. And then he wonders why he thinks that.

He turns his head towards his sister without taking his eyes off Zuko as he rises to his feet. “Are you gonna be okay?” Sokka says, and she puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, but what—”

“I’ll handle this,” he says, waving her off.

Her room is the next floor up, so she continues down the hall, not-so-subtly glaring at Zuko as she passes him, towards the other staircase. Sokka trails behind her, stopping outside his door, where Zuko is waiting with his hands shoved in his coat pockets.

“Wh— How did you get in the building?” Sokka asks him, but Zuko’s eyes flash off to the side like he’s ignoring the question. That’s when Sokka notices he seems… angry? Distressed? Not good, at any rate.

“Do you… want to come in?” Sokka adds hesitantly, raising the key in his hand up to the door lock as if in slow motion. He takes the small flick of Zuko’s head in the direction of the door as a yes.

They stop in the middle of the room as the door shuts behind him, and Sokka swings his arms back and forth as he waits for someone else—anyone else—to start this conversation. “Sooo…” he finally says. “Everything okay?”

The look Zuko pierces him with tells him that was the wrong thing to ask.

“Or, I mean,” he adds quickly, holding his hands up in defence, “you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. You don’t have to say anything. You can just, like, stand there and be—” He tries to think of a word that won’t come off as flippant, in this moment, but draws a blank. “—You.”

Zuko’s jaw tenses as he stares off at nothing, and then he scrubs his hands over his face with a frustrated groan. “I don’t even know why I’m here,” he says through his hands.

“Because… I’m a great listener?” Sokka suggests, offering a tentative—albeit cheesy—grin.

Zuko just looks at him completely deadpan.

“Or because—”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t have any other friends!” Zuko spits out, and Sokka tries not to get too excited about the fact that he said _other_. “My sister is a backstabbing, manipulative jerk; my ex-girlfriend hates me for some reason—“ He pushes his hands into his hair, which is loose and kind of fluffy-looking, like he recently washed it. “And then you—”

“Me?” Sokka asks, when it seems Zuko isn’t going to finish that sentence.

“I _knew_ you were helping your School’s team,” Zuko says, though he won’t meet Sokka’s gaze. “I get that. But what I don’t get is why you’re _helping the other teams as well_.”

“I—” Sokka is actually flabbergasted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, extremely unconvincingly.

“It’s been obvious since the second round of the Trials,” Zuko tells him, finally fixing his eyes on him. “I just didn’t—I didn’t think it would—”

“You’re still ahead of the other teams, though—”

“ _I know that!_ ” he snaps. “That’s not the—Not the point.” His voice softens a little at the end and he lowers his gaze again. “It’s just like… It’s like you’re turning everyone against me or something.”

Sokka blinks at him for a moment. “You mean the other teams?” he says, confused. “They were already against you.”

“Yeah, I—I know.” Zuko runs his hand back through his hair again. “It’s.” He huffs out a breath. “It’s stupid.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that—” Sokka says, taking a step towards him and reaching for his arm. Zuko almost imperceptibly flinches and Sokka steps back again. He runs his raised hand through his own hair with an awkward chuckle, and a few pieces at the front fall out of his hair tie. He quickly clasps his hands behind his back where they won’t get him into more trouble.

“God, this is ridiculous,” Zuko groans, tipping his head back and looking up at the ceiling. Sokka absolutely _does not_ stare at the bit of his neck now visible over the top of his scarf. “I shouldn’t have come here, I just—”

“No, wait—” Sokka’s hand flies out from behind his back and he grabs the end of Zuko’s sleeve when he makes a move to leave. “You don’t have to go,” he says quickly. “It’s cool! You can hang out here; I don’t—I don’t mind.”

Zuko pauses for a minute and looks at him, and Sokka knows he’s being _too much_ again, but he’s kind of afraid that if Zuko leaves like this—whatever _this_ is—Sokka might never see him again. Not in a friend way, at least. Just in an _occasionally see each other in passing_ sort of way. And maybe not even then. (Except for a few months last year when he ate in the Central Dining Hall for some reason, Zuko seems to stick to the Fire School campus most of the time, from what Sokka can tell.)

Sokka may not have a lot of friends, but the ones he has, he holds onto. Which is why, when Zuko takes a step to leave again, Sokka holds on. To his hand.

It’s not an intentional thing, exactly, it just seemed like the easiest thing to grab hold of. But he doesn’t let go, either, not even when Zuko just stares down at their hands, clasped together. Well, Sokka’s is clasping; Zuko’s is… there.

Sokka tries to remind himself that he’s been in more embarrassing situations than this, but none seem to come to mind, and also he’s not really sure how that would help anyway.

“Um—” he starts to say, but then Zuko’s fingers curl around his hand too, and suddenly they are just straight-up holding hands in the middle of Sokka’s room, and he’s not entirely sure what to think about that. Except he knows that letting go is definitely not an option.

When Zuko’s gaze meets his, he’s not sure how to read it. He thinks he _might_ have some idea, but he’s also been wrong about this sort of thing before, and Zuko usually gets pretty awkward when—

When his eyes flit to Sokka’s mouth, Sokka doesn’t even have time to react, not consciously. He takes a step closer—or maybe Zuko does. In any case, they’re closer now, and Sokka’s other hand is on the lapel of Zuko’s coat, and Zuko’s other hand is on the side of Sokka’s neck, and Zuko is kissing him—or maybe he’s kissing Zuko. Probably both, now that he thinks about it. It is _not_ where he expected his night would go, when he made his way upstairs tonight, but he is _not_ complaining either.

The hand he’s holding pulls away and ends up on the other side of his neck, like Zuko doesn’t want him to go anywhere, which is fine by him, because he can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be, at this precise moment. He grabs Zuko’s other lapel and pulls him closer—because, by some miracle, it was even possible to be _closer_ —and he finds himself thinking that maybe they should have been doing this a long time ago, because who really needs _science_ anyway?

The whole _full outerwear_ situation is a bit of a damper, though, Sokka notes, and he tries to develop a plan to go from _here_ to _here, but in a cozy sweater_. Because he is willing to bet there is a cozy sweater under here, and it should really be a _crime_ that he doesn’t already have his arms around it. So, step one: open coat. Another tug on the lapels tells him that it is open, and now he just needs to make it _go away_. So, step two—

He slips his hands inside Zuko’s coat and— _yes_ , there is a cozy sweater under there. But as soon as he rests his hands against Zuko’s sides, Zuko jerks back and puts a couple feet of distance between them. Sokka isn’t sure how he could have so horribly misread the situation, given that Zuko seemed to be perfectly fine with it until right now.

“S—Sorry,” Zuko stammers, his eyes wide. “I—I have to—” He’s at the door before Sokka can stop him, and Sokka’s plea for him to come back dies on the tip of his tongue.

Maybe if his head weren’t still swimming from, well, _all of that_ , he would have been able to make Zuko stay and, like, _talk about this_. But as it stands, he’s not sure that he can anymore. Stand, that is.

He takes a few stumbling steps backward until he hits the edge of his bed and then collapses into it, staring straight up at the ceiling. There’s a water stain up there—the bathroom on the next floor is one room over from his, so the pipes go through here and must have leaked at one point, a long time ago. He thinks it looks like someone got really startled with a cup of coffee and splashed it up there. Briefly, he wonders if waterbending could have prevented the leak from staining the ceiling if it had been caught in time.

Then he throws an arm over his face to cover his eyes. He knows what he’s doing; he’s trying to think about anything _but_ the thing he really wants to think about, because the thing he really wants to think about is a pair of earbuds knotted so tight that even he can’t untangle them. One of the earbuds: _Why did Zuko kiss me?_ The other earbud: _Why did Zuko run away?_

Sokka _knows_ there has to be some logical thread between them—a tangled cord, if you will—but he can’t follow it at all.

Really, though, he wants to know if Zuko is okay. And, more selfishly, he wants to be able to do that again. But since he’s a caring and kind-hearted person, it’s mostly the first one. (And since he’s a hormonal teenager, who lies to himself all the time, it’s really mostly the second.)

He starts laughing, out loud, his arm still strewn over his head, because he doesn’t know what else to do. The term is over—everyone is heading home tomorrow for the winter break—and his whole world has just been turned upside down. Well, not really _upside down_. More like a few inches to the left. But it’s still _off_ , and he wasn’t expecting it.

He wishes he had held on tighter.

* * *

Azula is at her brother’s side as soon as he steps up to his door to unlock it. “Hm, you were out late,” she says to him. He doesn’t even acknowledge her. She tries again. “I mean, it seems a little strange to go work on a _science project_ on the very last night of the term.”

“Piss off,” he grumbles as he gets the door open. He steps inside and tries to close it, but Azula stands in the way.

“Let me guess, is it an Earth School girl?” she asks mockingly. “You do like them a bit surly, don’t you?”

“I said piss _off_ ,” he repeats, leaning forward to edge her out the door.

“Or maybe it’s one of the Air School boys with unwashed hair and a flower crown?” she continues, unmoving. “Though the unwashed thing doesn’t really seem your speed—”

“Please,” Zuko says through his teeth, “ _leave_.”

“I’m just trying to figure out who could possibly do _this_ to you, Zuzu,” she says, gesturing at his general presence. “Who could make you lose sight of what _really matters_.”

“I’m done with you tonight,” he says, pressing his fist against the wall next to the door and resting his forehead against it.

“Well, maybe I’m done with _you_ ,” she says, her voice low but harsh. “With _this_.” She gestures at him again. “With your sulking and disappearing and letting the team down—”

“That’s not what this is about, Azula,” he says with a frustrated edge to his voice. “And you know it.”

She blinks at his profile. “Of course that’s what this is about—”

“You’re just jealous,” he says flatly, lifting his head to look at her. “Because I can make friends and you can’t.”

Azula nearly wants to laugh, but she’s afraid if she does, it might come out too hysterical, so she just rolls her eyes. “I have _friends_ —”

“You have people who stick around because they _pity_ you,” he tells her. There’s a hint of pity in his voice too, which only makes the whole thing worse.

She takes every feeling threatening to be felt within her and forces them down into her stomach where she compresses them into a ball and sets them on fire. “You’re one to talk, brother,” she says. “You think anyone on the team actually _likes_ you? How often do they invite you hang out with them, hm?”

“That’s different—”

“They might not say anything to your face, but everyone thinks you’re pathetic. You’re only on the team because you’re the Headmaster’s son.”

“You’re the Headmaster’s daughter!” he argues.

“Yes, and I know how to use that to my advantage,” she says. “And if that makes me unpopular, then _fine_. I don’t need friends in order to win. And clearly, friends are only a hindrance to you too; your work has really begun to slide since—”

“Fine, I get it,” Zuko says, pressing his door towards her. “We’re both pathetic losers and everyone hates us. Goodnight.”

“Correction,” Azula says, smacking her hand against the door to stop it. “ _I_ am not a loser.”


	7. Chapter 7

Being home for the winter break is strange for Katara. Or, perhaps, being away for the past few months has been strange, and this is just what normal feels like again.

Not that she hasn’t been home at all this term; their house is only a half hour drive from the Academy—not a long commute for her dad every day—but she only really came back for the occasional weekend, and never long enough to get settled into a routine. And after the first couple weekend visits, she realized being at the Academy was easier if she didn’t come home too often.

She’s been home for a week now, though, as has Sokka, and things are settling back into familiar patterns. But she sort of wonders if she’s different now. If her dad and grandmother can tell. When Sokka came back for the break last year, he seemed different, to Katara. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what. Sadder, maybe? She wonders if she seems sadder too.

Sokka is definitely different this year. He barely said a word on the car ride up from the Academy, but since they’ve been home, he’s wanted to fill every minute of every day with some sort of family activity. Movies and game nights and even hiking alongside the river near their house—which wouldn’t have been so bad if Katara’s winter boots hadn’t gotten a hole in them.

When she asked him why Zuko was waiting by his door on the last day of term, Sokka made up some lie about him having forgotten something last time he was there. But Katara pretended to believe him anyway. She wasn’t sure what else to do. She didn’t really want to confront Sokka about this now, not while he was clearly distraught. But she’s worried about him becoming friends with a Fire School student—a Fire School student who knows how clever he is.

It’s bad enough that Sokka is being used up and hung out to dry by all the other teams, but there’s no way she’s letting the Fire School get their hands on him. She hasn’t told him this yet, but when they get back to the Academy, she’s going to ask him to take a step back from consulting for any of the teams. She can tell it’s wearing him thin.

For now, though, she’s happy to watch movies and play games and go on hikes—well, maybe not until she can get her boots fixed. (She doesn’t particularly want to have to waterbend the snow out of her boot every few steps.)

“Go fish,” she says when Sokka asks if she has any kings. He narrows his eyes at her.

“Are you sure?” he says suspiciously. “Didn’t you ask Gran Gran for a king a few rounds ago?”

“Yes,” Katara says, with patronizing enunciation, “and then she gave me one and they are now in this pile.” She points to the cards on the floor next to her. “Two kings, living happily ever after.”

They play a few more rounds before their grandmother decides to call it a night and head to bed. Katara just slumps on the couch, contented, while Sokka tries to build a house of cards on the coffee table. It keeps falling over by the time he adds a third level.

“Your base isn’t wide enough,” she says to him, and he glares at her jokingly.

“You think I don’t know that, Katara?” he says haughtily. “For your information, I am _trying_ something here.”

“And what are you trying?”

“When I get it to work, I’ll tell you.”

“Is this a house of cards _hack_ , son?” their dad asks from the other end of the couch, and Katara groans, as usual.

“Don’t encourage him,” she says.

“Heaven forbid a father _encourage_ his own children,” he says. “The _horror_.”

“ _Dad_ —”

“You should be encouraging _her_ to take over as captain,” Sokka says to him, waving a card in Katara’s direction.

Katara rolls her eyes. Sokka’s been on her case about this all week, and managed to drag their dad into it. She’d hoped to get him on her side, claiming that Year 1 students rarely make captain and it’s better for her to just observe and chip in this year. But her dad thinks she’s just nervous, and that she should “feel the fear and do it anyway.”

Well, she’s not _afraid_. She just doesn’t want to be in charge. She doesn’t want everyone watching her, looking to her for what to do. She might get it wrong, and then what? Or—possibly worse—she might get it _right_. And no one likes a know-it-all, she’s learned.

She deflects from the topic yet again, though she expects she won’t hear the last of it until the Winter term has started and everything settles back the way it was. Besides, it’s not as if this is her decision, only. The team would have to vote for her, and she’s not about to go out of her way to make that happen.

At least Sokka manages to drop the subject by the time he reaches the third level of cards on his fourth attempt. He hasn’t even let go of the cards in his hand before the whole thing collapses in front of him.

“Did it work?” Katara says, her face propped up on her fist, smushing her cheek up.

Sokka looks at her and frowns. “Not quite.”

* * *

As soon as he’s back in his room, Sokka grabs his phone off his nightstand and unlocks it, looking for any missed messages. He’s been keeping it in here most of the time, this week, so he won’t be tempted to look at it every five seconds. Which is about how frequently he thinks about it.

The last message in his conversation with Zuko: simply, _“hey”_

He’d sent it the morning after Zuko walked out, before the car ride home. He wasn’t really sure what to say, but he thought a casual opener like that would at least give him some options about how to play this. He wasn’t committing to being fully invested if that was The Wrong Thing, but he also wasn’t shutting it all down out of fear. Even though part of him definitely wanted to shut it all down. Send some laughing emojis or just brush it off as _“weird… anyway—”_

But _“hey”_ left the ball completely in Zuko’s court. Probably. He wasn’t good with sports metaphors.

And now it’s been a week and he’s heard nothing from him. He should take it as a hint. Or maybe not even a hint—a bold message in skywriting: _NOT INTERESTED_.

The collateral damage of this whole Zuko fiasco is that Sokka hasn’t been able to so much as look at his IET application all week. He has to submit it by the second week of the term if he wants a chance at transferring in for the spring. He still has an essay question to answer, as well as his _creative solution_ proposal. Which he’s not even sure if he can write, now, because there’s no way he can do it without thinking of Zuko. And thinking of Zuko means thinking about the kiss and—more brutally—what happened after, and that just makes him want to stay up all night and keep trying to make a Leaning Tower of Cards-a. Because even the constant failure of that was preferable to _this_.

Rejection.

When he thinks about it, he can’t breathe. When he thinks about it, it makes his _veins_ hurt. His whole body aches like one giant bruise. When he thinks about it—well, it’s just better when he doesn’t.

But this application is so much bigger than whatever was or wasn’t going on with Zuko. And he couldn’t mess this up just because Zuko decided to be a big baby and run away when things got to be too much. When Sokka got to be too much.

He sits hunched over in his bed, both knees up and his laptop resting on the mattress between them, typing frantically with one arm under his leg to reach the keyboard. He already knew what he wanted his creative solution to be, though he hadn’t been able to successfully demonstrate it yet. The demonstration wasn’t a requirement for the application, but it would increase his chances of getting accepted. Nevertheless, once he finishes the essay questions, he moves right on to the proposal.

_Fight Fire With Fire: A Waterbending Technique._

* * *

Zuko’s father didn’t bat an eye when Zuko told him he was going to spend his winter break with his uncle Iroh. He’s not sure if he expected his father to have some sort of reaction or not, but the complete lack of reaction was probably the worst he could have hoped for. He hadn’t sat down for a meal with his father since before the Fall term started, and his father couldn’t care less.

Azula seemed suitably pissed, at least, though she tried to mask it with snide remarks and insults at their uncle’s—and Zuko’s—expense. But Zuko was grateful to be rid of her for two weeks. He’d forgotten how much more peaceful life at the Academy had been before she arrived.

The thing he hadn’t considered, about spending two weeks with his uncle, was that his uncle liked to talk. Not just have a chat, but actually _talk_ about things. Once in a while, it was just the thing Zuko needed, even if he didn’t want to admit it. But for two weeks straight…

Well, Zuko had taken to finding other ways to occupy himself throughout the day. He managed to complete a rather thorough play-through of _Breath of the Wild_ over the course of the break; he needed to play video games all day otherwise he would just stare at his phone.

At the last message in his conversation with Sokka: _“hey”_

He has no idea what it was supposed to mean, but he received on his way back to his uncle’s house after the end of term, and has stared at it every night for the past two weeks.

Was it good? Was it bad? Was it a precursor to a dreaded, _“we need to talk”_? Or was it a precursor to, _“we should do that again sometime”_? Was it something else altogether? Maybe Sokka thought he’d dreamt the whole thing and that everything was normal between them still.

But there’s no way Zuko can figure out what Sokka is thinking because he can’t even figure out what _he’s_ thinking. Or what he was thinking. When he kissed Sokka. On the mouth. With his mouth.

He did that. That happened. And now Sokka was… something. And he was… something. And they were—well, quite probably, they were _nothing_. If Sokka had really wanted this to go any further, he would have said something else by now. Sure, Sokka maybe seemed to be into it at the time, but Zuko wouldn’t put it past him to just be _so nice_ that he didn’t want to hurt Zuko’s feelings, so he went along with it for a bit.

Zuko’s not sure he could ever live down this degree of humiliation.

“Something bothering you, nephew?”

Zuko lets out a small yelp after he flicks on the light in the kitchen to find Iroh sitting at the table, his hands cupped around a steaming mug of tea. He’d expected his uncle to be asleep by now, not sitting alone in the dark.

“Why are you sitting alone in the dark?” Zuko asks him before he notices the small candle flickering on the table beside the teapot. “Oh, sorry, were you meditating?”

Iroh chuckles and pushes an empty mug towards the other side of the table. “No,” he says as he starts pouring tea into it from the pot, “just trouble sleeping. Same as you, I expect.”

Zuko nods and takes a seat in front of the freshly poured cup of tea.

“I know you’ve been up in the night a lot lately,” Iroh adds with a sympathetic smile. “And I know that usually happens when there’s something bothering you.”

Zuko had spent a few years living with his uncle, after his mother died, before he started at the Academy. He hated living in that big, empty house with his father. Most days, the only living souls he’d encounter were the staff; he hardly saw Azula, and almost never saw his father. But his uncle took him in when he was struggling, and now here he is doing it again. Zuko knows he should be grateful, but part of him longs for the cold halls of his father’s home, where no one would be able to tell if something was bothering him, and he wouldn’t have to acknowledge it.

“Nothing’s bothering me,” Zuko says, keeping his head lowered so he doesn’t have to look his uncle in the eye when he lies to him.

“Hmm.” Iroh takes a long sip of his tea.

“What’s that for?”

“It’s interesting, is all,” he says.

“What is?” Zuko asks, brow furrowed in annoyance.

“That you seem to feel there is anything in the world you could not talk to me about,” his uncle concludes.

“I said I’m fine—”

“I didn’t say you weren’t fine,” he adds, with another gentle smile, “I said there is something bothering you. There is no shame in that, Zuko—”

“You don’t even know,” Zuko says hastily, before he can think better of it. “You don’t know what I did or what I’m feeling—” He stops himself, scowling.

“Which is why I asked,” Iroh says, his voice still calm and even. “You do not have to tell me, Zuko. But you can.”

Zuko leans forward on his elbows and pushes his hands into his hair.. “This is just—” He stops himself again. There’s no way he can tell his uncle what he did—he can never tell _anyone_ —but he doesn’t know what he should do next. “I did something stupid,” he finally admits, sitting up straighter, but his head is still lowered. “It was impulsive and I shouldn’t have done it, but…”

“Then why did you?” Iroh asks, not a hint of judgment in his voice. He’s always been so different from Zuko’s father.

Zuko picks at a spot on the table where the wood is chipping. “I don’t know,” he mutters. And then, quieter, adds, “I wanted to.”

Iroh just nods, not speaking for what what feels like ages. “We all do ‘stupid’ things,” he says. “We make mistakes. But they are not the end of the world.”

Zuko doesn’t point out that this feels like it could be.

“Mistakes are lessons,” his uncle continues. “They are meant for us to reflect on them and learn, grow. We fix whatever needs to be fixed and we try to do better next time. But we never stop making mistakes, otherwise we stop growing.”

“But I don’t know how to fix this,” Zuko says. “I don’t know what he—” He cuts himself off again before he gives too much away.

Iroh nods solemnly. “Sometimes our mistakes hurt other people,” he says, and guilt twinges in Zuko’s stomach. “But we do our best to to do right by them, to apologize, without expecting anything in return.”

“What if—” Zuko begins, but his voice catches in his throat. “What if I did something and… What if he doesn’t… How do I…”

“Do you even know if this person is upset?” Iroh asks. “Sometimes we can think we’ve hurt someone, and we close ourselves off, thinking that will hurt them less, but really—”

“He must be,” Zuko cuts in. Even if the kiss itself didn’t hurt Sokka, the two weeks of ghosting probably did. Zuko knows this and yet he did it anyway. “And I don’t know how to get his forgiveness,” he adds. “I don’t even deserve it.”

Iroh shakes his head. “Another person’s forgiveness is not in your control,” he says. “It is a choice they make, and you must accept that. But apologies are not about seeking forgiveness or absolving oneself of guilt. It’s about letting the other person know they are cared for and respected; that _they_ did not deserve to be hurt. Whether or not they decide they can forgive you.” He pauses, looking at Zuko with concern. “Does that help you at all?”

Zuko nods slightly, his stomach churning. “I think so,” he says.

When he finishes his tea and goes back to his room, he takes out his phone to send a text.

_“I’m sorry,”_ he writes to Sokka. _“I won’t bother you again.”_

* * *

It’s only the first week of the Winter term, but already the Water School team is going straight into training for the Vernal Tournament. It’s clear when Katara steps into the arena for this week’s practice.

The whole place is set up for a game of Avatar; a set of three goals on each of two sides of the central platform, and lines painted on the ground to divide up the court and section off the Temples, where the goals are housed. Katara made sure to brush up on the rules of the game over the break, since she’s never officially played before, but seeing it all laid out in person is a little overwhelming.

Most of her teammates are already gathered in the centre of the court, stretching out their limbs and chatting, as she makes her way over to them. They go quiet when she approaches and she stops in her tracks.

“Um. Hi?” she says. Everyone’s watching her expectantly. She gives them a nervous smile. “Where’s Hahn?”

“Probably nursing his wounded ego,” says one of the girls at the back of the group.

“Why would he—”

“He quit the team after he was voted out as captain,” says the guy standing closest to Katara’s left.

She turns her head to look at him, confused. “Voted out? I thought—”

“We all talked after the party,” says another person—Katara can hardly keep track of what’s going on. “We agreed he was holding us back.”

“O…kay…” she says slowly. It still doesn’t explain why they’re all looking at her. Unless— “Wait, _me_?” she asks, taking a step back.

“Hack-Man was right; you’re way better at this stuff.”

“Yeah, we’d probably be in the lead by now if we’d just done what you said instead.”

“But—But I—” Katara fumbles for words. “I mean, the Tournament is different. I’ve never really played Avatar, not like this.”

“You just get the ball into one of the goals,” someone says. “Preferably not your own.”

“Well, I know how it works, yeah, but— I’m not really qualified—”

“You’ve got the highest points total on the team, I think that makes you more than qualified.”

“But—” She looks out at everyone watching her, waiting for her to say something, and can’t decide if she’d rather run and hide or step up to the challenge. “Are you sure?”

Most of them are in agreement, and a feeling of pride swells in her chest. Which is dangerous. She knows she can’t let this go to her head, make her too confident. She knows what happens when she gets confident.

She swallows. “Alright,” she says finally. “Let’s do this. As a team.”

They all crowd in to put their hands in a pile—something they’d never done for Hahn—and Katara puts her hand on top. She assures herself that she’s only doing what’s best for the team. They need someone who actually _cares_ to lead them through the Tournament. It’s about supporting them and letting them shine.

And maybe she’ll be able to slink by unnoticed anyway.

* * *

“This is why you pushed me to become team captain, isn’t it,” Katara had said when she let Sokka into the locked Water School arena on the weekend.

“I was _clearly_ only thinking of you, dear sister,” he’d replied.

She offered to stick around and help him with whatever he was working on, but he knew she had her own assignments to work on and didn’t really have the time.

So he’s been setting things on fire by himself ever since.

Specifically, he’s been setting matches on fire and trying to put them out without using any water from the moat. But they usually extinguish themselves before he has a chance.

His idea is that the water in the air around the flame could be used to put out the fire, and that this could have interesting firefighting applications. If it works.

And he’s pretty sure his idea should work. He’s also pretty sure that he’s not good enough at waterbending to make it work. Perhaps he should have let Katara stay and help him. Only…

It isn’t just that she has assignments of her own to work on. Some part of him—which, let’s face it, is probably his ego—wants to figure this out on his own. He wants to prove that, not only does his proposed idea actually work, but he is also capable of making it work.

So far, though, he isn’t.

The most he’s been able to manage is a couple droplets of water, which fizzle as soon as they hit the flame. He’s not sure if the problem rests solely with him, however, or if his experiment is fundamentally flawed. Perhaps the match is letting off too much smoke and not enough steam. It would help if he had a source of complete combustion on hand to compare it with. Something like—

Well, he’s not going to ask Zuko to help with this. Even though Zuko had said he would. But that was before he kissed Sokka, ran away, and said he would never bother him again. That certainly gives Sokka the impression he’s no longer willing to lend a hand.

A voice inside tells him he’s being ridiculous—Zuko _wants_ Sokka to get into IET, after all—but the thought of asking for help and being rejected again is… Well, he’d rather not think about it. Besides, he doesn’t want to be a burden to the people around him anymore. He’s going to get into the Institute of Elemental Technology, on his own, and be out of everyone’s hair for good.

He tries another match, only this time he doesn’t have the energy to squeeze out even a single drop.

* * *

She’ll never admit it to anyone, but Azula was a bit pleased when she returned to the Academy after winter break and found her brother was suddenly willing to work with her now. It was even his idea that they do extra training on days off from official team practice. She’s still not sure what his angle is, in all of this, but she knows she’ll have a better chance of winning with him on her side. For now.

Playing Avatar one on one is tricky, since it’s nearly impossible to guard all the goals at once while also making shots at the opposing ones, but her firebending is strong enough that she can manage some defence and offence maneuvers at the same time. Zuko can barely keep up—but he does.

She’s one toss ahead in points when she says they should call it a day, but tells him not to put away the equipment just yet. Someone else will be using it soon. And according to the clock on the screen above them, it’s just about time.

Azula hears Ty Lee’s voice echoing in the arena entrance before she sees them; Mai and Ty Lee walking in, dressed in their training gear. Ty Lee is practically bouncing on her feet as they make their way over.

“It’s so cool you asked me to train with you guys,” she says brightly. Zuko just looks confused.

Azula pats him on the arm. “It’s alright, you can head out,” she says. “We’re just going to teach Ty Lee how to play Avatar.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Since she’ll be replacing Mai on the team.”

“ _What_?” Mai says, so startled that she clearly forgets to pretend to be bored.

“Azula—” Ty Lee says, but Azula cuts her off.

“I reviewed the stats from the Autumnal Trials, Mai, and yours were the lowest,” she says. “Keeping you on would be a drain on the team.”

“My stats are lowest because I joined last,” Mai says in a low but distinctly angry voice.

“You were third from the bottom during the last trial.”

“Then clearly I’m not the _worst_ —”

“I don’t want to put you in a position to _become_ the worst,” Azula says. “You may have decent firebending skills and quick reflexes, but Ty Lee is just more athletic and—”

“I don’t believe this,” Mai grumbles, turning around to leave.

“I was hoping you would help her train, though—”

“I don’t—I don’t wanna take Mai’s spot—” Ty lee says meekly, and Azula places a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m just thinking about what’s best for the team,” she says, and then looks over at Mai who has turned her head to glare at her over. “It’s nothing personal, Mai.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Mai, wait—” Ty Lee says, but Azula tightens her grip on her arm before she can go after Mai.

“Maybe we should let her cool down a bit,” Azula says, faking a concerned tone.

Zuko looks at her in disgust and disbelief. “What the fuck, Azula?” he says, and then jogs after Mai before she can respond.

“It’ll be fine,” Azula assures Ty Lee, keeping her grip firm. “She’s a big girl.”

* * *

“Wait up,” Zuko says as he tries to catch up to Mai.

She picks up her pace. She just wants to get out of here until she can convince herself that none of this actually matters, that she didn’t actually want to be on the team anyway, and she definitely isn’t pissed off about Ty Lee spending more time with Azula. She might not even change out of her training clothes before leaving, even though it’s freezing outside.

“Mai,” he says, sprinting to get ahead of her. He cuts off her path to the changing room and she comes to an abrupt stop. “Please, just— Talk to me.”

“About what?” she says, as monotone as she can. There’s a slight quiver in her voice anyway, and she hates it.

“All of _that_ ,” he says, gesturing past her with his arm. He brings it down to rest on her shoulder but she shrugs it off and tries to walk around him. He keeps following her. “That was a shitty thing for her to do—”

“I don’t care,” she says. “Let her have her perfect team, I didn’t even want to join.”

“Mai—”

“What?” she snaps, stopping to look him in the eye. “I don’t care about anything, remember?”

There’s a flash of guilt on his face and she thinks about taking it further—telling him she never loved him at all and she only wanted to tear his heart into a thousand pieces—just to see if it would make him crumble. And then she shrinks back a step, because the fact she would even consider doing such a thing means she is quite literally a monster. At least Azula has an overbearing father that demands perfection from his children; she has a reason to be this way.

Mai is just evil for the fun of it, apparently.

Even though none of these things sound fun to her. They sound horrible. But she’d _have_ to be evil to even think these thoughts at all.

“I didn’t. Mean it like that,” Zuko says, curling his hand into a fist as he draws it back to his side.

“Whatever, I’m fine,” she says. She turns away again. “So you don’t have to care either.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates today. Make sure to read chapter 7 first.

They’re already a few weeks into the term, and it’s the first time Katara has managed to get the other schools together for a strategy meeting. Everyone is busy this time of year; exams and assignments for classes are condensed in the Winter term to give the students more time to focus on the Tournament in the spring.

But the start of the Tournament is less than two months away, and no one can agree on how the alliance should proceed. Especially since, this time, they’ll be competing with each other directly.

There are four rounds of the Tournament, one hosted at each School, and each round is made up of three games, where the host School takes on each of the others in turn. At several points throughout the Tournament, they’re going to have to face off against each other.

Katara suggests they all help each other score as many points as possible, finding ways to use their elements in harmony, and focus on blocking the Fire School from scoring any. But that doesn’t go over well with everyone.

“We’re not about to just let _them_ win,” one of the Earth School teammates says, gesturing towards the Air School team at the back of the classroom.

“It’s not about who _wins_ ,” Katara tries to explain. How many more times will she have to? “It’s about getting our points totals up— _all_ of our points totals—to keep the Fire School from securing yet another victory.”

“You’re just saying that because your team’s in the lead,” someone argues. They’re met with a few _yeahs_ from the other teams; Katara is grateful when Suki speaks up.

“Katara’s right,” she says, loud enough to be heard over the others’ chatter. “We need to give each other a hand if we want a chance of knocking the Fire School out of the race. If we all rack up as many points as we can, then whichever two of us end up in the final game can duke it out for the win. But until then, we need to stick together. This is bigger than all of us.”

Her words are met with a few _yeahs_ as well, and Katara inwardly sighs in relief. Not everyone is against her, at least.

“Speaking on behalf of the Earth School,” Jet adds, placing his hand over his chest and looking at her sincerely, “we pledge to work together. If one of us wins, all of us win.”

Katara lets herself smile a little, but she’s startled by Sokka’s sudden, “ _What?_ ”

She looks over to her right, where he’s been (unusually) quietly sitting on a desk for the entire meeting, and he’s staring down at his phone incredulously.

“Sokka—” she says gently, and he looks up at her in surprise.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” he says. “I—” He glances back down at his phone. “It’s just Twitter drama.” He hurriedly tucks his phone under his leg and gives her a smile that makes it obvious he’s lying. “Proceed,”he adds in an affected accent.

Katara’s pretty sure he’s not just being weird because he was caught being on his phone during the meeting. And she’s pretty sure he won’t tell her what’s really going on when she asks him later.

He doesn’t really tell her anything anymore.

* * *

As Zuko lifts his hand to knock, it occurs to him that maybe all this needed was a simple text message. Maybe this didn’t require him to drop everything to come straight to the Water School dorms, get one of the cleaning staff who recognizes him to let him into the building, and knock on Sokka’s door. He doesn’t even know if Sokka is _here_.

This whole idea was fairly poorly thought out—in that it wasn’t thought out at all.

He glances down at his phone, gripped in his other hand, and unlocks it to read the message again. _“the academy is officially stuck with me lol”_

It didn’t even occur to Zuko to ask Sokka what he meant, or if he wanted to talk about it. He just felt that he had to come. That if Sokka didn’t get accepted to IET, then he could probably use a friend right now. And, for some reason, that meant Zuko.

There’s no point in questioning the decision now, though, so he raps his knuckles against the door a couple of times and waits. And waits. He’s not sure how long he’s supposed to wait before he should give up, but just as he raises his hand to knock again, the door opens,

So, Zuko is probably the last person Sokka expected to randomly show up at his door. That’s obvious from the look on his face. What’s not obvious is whether or not it’s a bad thing.

“You—You’re—” he stammers, blinking wildly. “You’re here.”

“I, uh, was in the neighbourhood?” Zuko replies weakly. It’s a transparent lie, but the truth is too humiliating to say out loud.

Sokka blinks at him a few more times and then shakes his head as if to clear it. “Okay, yeah, cool,” he says, taking a step back and opening the door wider. “You can… come in, I guess.”

“Um, right. Yeah.” Zuko nods and walks in as Sokka steps aside further.

“You can…” Sokka says, motioning vaguely towards the beanbag chair. For a moment, Zuko thinks Sokka wants him to sit there, but then he adds, “Coat? If you want?”

Zuko feels himself go red as Sokka glances down at his lapels—right where Sokka had been clinging to him when he—

Zuko coughs lightly into his fist and ducks his head as he walks past to drop off his outerwear. He can hear Sokka collapse onto his bed, and when Zuko turns around he sees him lying at an angle across it with his legs hanging off the edge and his hands clamped down over his face.

“Are, uh, are you okay?” Zuko asks as he crouches down to untie his boots, hesitantly. He’s not sure if he should be doing this right now, but since he was invited to take off his coat, he figures Sokka isn’t going to kick him out right away. Probably.

“I’m great,” Sokka says, with a comically exaggerated crack in his voice, from behind his hands.

Once his boots are off, Zuko makes his way over to the bed and perches at the edge of it, down near Sokka’s legs. “I’m really sorry,” he says solemnly. “I know— I know how much you wanted to…”

Sokka spreads his fingers and looks at Zuko through them. “Thanks,” he says. His voice is still a bit muffled by his hands.

“Does it— I mean, is there some way you could still—” Zuko attempts, but he stops when Sokka sits up and starts looking around himself frantically. “What, what’s wrong?”

“My phone,” Sokka says, one eyebrow raised like he’s a detective looking for clues.

Zuko does a feeble look around as well, and spots a black rectangle lying on a rumpled hoodie on the floor next to the bed. “Um, is that it?” he says, pointing.

Sokka practically flings himself over the side of the bed to reach for it and then sits up again, this time much closer to Zuko. “Okay, so,” he says, pushing back the front bits of his hair that fell out of its tie. He taps through a few screens on his phone. “The rejection email.”

Zuko braces himself for Sokka to start reading it aloud, but he just thrusts the phone in Zuko’s direction and tells him to read it himself. He nearly drops the phone when he tries to take it, and then starts to scan the message. It appears to be a rather standard rejection letter, although he admittedly wouldn’t know.

“You mutter to yourself when you read, did you know that?” Sokka says. He’s leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head propped up on his hand, like it weighs too much for his neck alone.

“Oh, sorry,” Zuko mumbles, embarrassed.

“Nah, it’s cute," Sokka says, as though it were a completely casual thing to say.

“Well—” Zuko clears his throat awkwardly. “It looks like they’re saying you should try applying again for next fall.”

Sokka rolls his head away and sighs. “Yeah, but what’s the point? They’re just gonna reject me again.”

“They might not. If it’s your Waterbending grades, you only spent a month or two actively working on that; you have the rest of the year to—”

“And what if that’s not enough?” Sokka says, and then forces a laugh. “That’s me; I’m not enough or I’m too much, but never in between.”

Zuko frowns at him. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” Sokka says, gesturing at his phone. “And _this_.” He gestures between the two of them. “And—Everything, really.”

“You’re—” Zuko says, struggling to understand what he means. “You’re neither of those things, though.”

Sokka snorts. “Sure,” he says. “That’s why you ran away when I kissed you.”

“I kissed _you_ , remember?” Zuko wishes he hadn’t said that quite so loud.

“Exactly!” Sokka says, sitting up taller and waving both hands in the air. “You _wanted_ to do that! But then when I also wanted to do that, it was Too Much—”

“That’s not—” Zuko cuts in. He doesn’t know how to explain. But he knows he royally fucked up. “It wasn’t _too much_ , it’s just— I mean, I don’t know. Maybe kind of—”

“Ughhhhhhhhh.” Sokka groans in frustration and drags his hands over his face like claws. Zuko reaches over to pull his hands away, and then he’s just left holding them. So. There’s that.

“ _You_ are not too much,” Zuko tells him, jostling Sokka’s hands for emphasis. “I just thought— I thought maybe—”

Sokka blinks at him. “Thought what?”

“Well, I mean, you’re kind of a touchy-feely guy, and—”

“You thought I was just making out with you because I’m a _touchy-feely guy_?” Sokka exclaims, gesticulating so hard that Zuko’s hands fall away from his.

It sounds silly when he puts it that way.

“We were not _making out_ —” Zuko tries to argue, as if it defends his case somehow.

“Yeah, because you _left_ ,” Sokka says. “We could have kicked things up to PG-13 if you’d—”

“Oh, _god_.” Zuko turns his head away, clamping his own hand over his face to hide his embarrassment.

“Look, I’m just saying,” Sokka adds, taking on a slightly more reverent tone, “I wouldn’t do _that_ with just any of my friends.” He pauses to consider something. “Well, my _friends_ consist of a 12-year-old kid, my sister, and my ex-girlfriend, so that’s kind of a given, but still—”

“I get it,” Zuko says, a nervous laugh cutting through his words.

“I, uh…” Sokka says, almost shyly, as he scratches the back of his head. “I was a little, uh, surprised, though? I mean, I didn’t expect that you were—”

“You thought I was straight, didn’t you?” Zuko grimaces.

“No! No, of course not; I never assume that about people,” Sokka says quickly. “But, I mean, takes all sorts, love is love, whatever. I’m cool with it. But no, I just— Don’t really get how _you_ … could like _me_.”

“Um.” Zuko doesn’t know what to say to that. How could he _not_ like him? He could he not like someone who gets so passionate about the things he loves, who’s brilliant and clever and funny and magnetic—and with that face? Zuko never stood a chance.

“Just, I mean, I’m kind of an acquired taste,” Sokka adds, chuckling.

“I guess I acquired it, then,” Zuko says before he realizes how ridiculous that sounds. Sokka’s eyes go wide with mirth, and Zuko expects to be laughed at any second now, but then—

But then Sokka is kissing him and— _well_.

It’s playful and flirty and Zuko smiles into it, holding onto Sokka’s elbows as Sokka holds him by the back of his neck. Sokka lifts his head slightly and gives Zuko a kiss on the tip of his nose and they both laugh.

“You’re a dork,” Sokka says to him with a grin.

“You’re one to talk—” Zuko replies, but his last word gets lost in Sokka’s mouth.

This one’s different. More like the one when— Well, Zuko doesn’t really want to think about that one, and what happened afterwards. And now he won’t have to, because any time he wants to think about kissing Sokka he can think about _this_. And—wow—he’s going to think about _this_ a lot.

Just when he thinks things are going to get a bit more PG-13, though, Sokka jerks his head back and stares at him with an eyebrow raised. “Now,” he says, “are you going to run away this time?”

“Um. No?” Zuko says.

Sokka smiles at him, practically a smirk. “Good answer.”

* * *

“Going somewhere, brother?” Azula asks, catching Zuko on his way down the stairs.

He stops for a moment, like she’s caught him off-guard, and then keeps going. “Out,” he says as she follows him.

“It looks like you’re going to training,” she says, eyeing his bag when they reach the bottom of the staircase.

“So?” he says gruffly.

“Well, wouldn’t you prefer going with a sparring partner?” She tries to keep the irritation out of her voice. The fact that he’s turned down her invitations for extra training for the past few weeks doesn’t bother her at all. Why should it?

“I would rather be alone.”

Azula forces a smirk onto her face, because this doesn’t bother her at all, either. It doesn’t. “Always so alone, Zuzu,” she says patronizingly.

“Yeah, well, you know all about what that’s like,” he says to her before turning to leave.

Anger flickers inside her, lapping at her insides like fire, but she doesn’t respond. She’s better than everyone at this whole School and she knows it; she doesn’t need anyone.

She rushes up a couple flights of stairs and looks out the window from the stairwell. She can see Zuko walking away, but instead of turning right to head to the arena, he keeps going straight.

Towards the Water School.

* * *

Sokka, very purposefully, does not look at Zuko. Not that he ever would look. He doesn’t _look_ at guys in the changing room, even if that guy is now kinda sorta his boyfriend. Zuko’s always been the sort to change hurriedly in the corner, anyway, so there’s not much to see, but Sokka still keeps his eyes fixed on the wall.

He’s nervous, though. But it has nothing to do with that.

“You— You think I’ve made improvements, right?” Sokka asks as he pulls on his after school shirt. “I mean, like, since last term.”

“Um. Yeah?” Zuko replies uncertainly from the corner, his voice a bit muffled as he pulls his head through a sweater.

“You don’t sound very convinced,” Sokka says, laughing to hide his disappointment as he stuffs his training clothes into his bag.

“No, I just—” Zuko finishes getting dressed and walks over to him. “I thought that was pretty obvious. I didn’t think you’d have to ask.”

Sokka looks at him now as he slips on his coat. “Oh.”

“You could barely hold water for more than fifteen seconds when we started training together, remember?” Zuko says, wrapping his scarf around his neck. “Even in the past couple weeks we’ve seen a lot of improvement.”

“Yeah, but—” There’s a flicker of a hesitant smile on Sokka’s face. “Do you think I’ve improved enough?”

Zuko swings his bag onto his shoulder. “Enough for what?”

“Uh, well—” Sokka begins, picking up his own bag so they can head out. “A spot has opened up on the team.”

“The Water School team?” Zuko says. He sounds surprised. “You… You want to join the team?”

“I mean, yeah, I know I’m not the best at the waterbending stuff,” Sokka adds quickly as they make their way down the corridors of the arena. “But I’m pretty good at other things, and I’d get extra credit to bring my grades up—”

“Joining the team isn’t the only way to get your grades up,” Zuko says, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“It can’t hurt to try, though, right?” They step out into the fading sun of the late afternoon; the days are getting longer as spring approaches, and Sokka feels like he’s running out of time.

Zuko stops him with a touch on the sleeve. His hand is only there for a second. “I just—I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.”

“What?” Sokka’s voice breaks with a laugh.

“I mean, what if it takes away time you should be spending on your other classes, or—”

“My other classes are fine, dude.”

“It just seems like an unnecessary stress and distraction—” Zuko says, sounding more desperate, and Sokka’s face cracks into smile.

“You’re afraid it will take my time away from _you_ ,” he says, nudging Zuko with his elbow.

Zuko’s cheeks go a bit rosy, and it’s not from the cold. “No,” he says petulantly, tucking his chin into his scarf.

“Aw, hey, come on,” Sokka says, putting a hand on Zuko’s sleeve. “Most of the time I’d be at practice you would also be at practice, so it’s not like we’d miss out on too much—”

“That’s not it, I just—” Zuko adjusts his bag on his other shoulder. “I don’t want you to stretch yourself too thin. I don’t—I don’t want you to get hurt. Or hurt your chances at IET.”

“But this could only help my chances.” Sokka steps a little closer and lets his hand drop until it’s right over Zuko’s. “I mean… Don’t you think I could do it?”

Zuko slips his hand away from Sokka’s when he tries to hold it, and looks around shiftily, like he’s making sure nobody saw them. “It’s— I have to go,” he says.

“Wait, Zuko—”

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Zuko says, barely glancing back at Sokka as he heads off towards the Fire School campus.

Sokka watches him until he disappears around the corner of a building, and then stares down at his hand, still curled like he’s about to hold Zuko’s. But Zuko’s isn’t there anymore.

* * *

“Where’s your grapefruit?” Sokka asks when Katara takes her seat at the table. She looks down at her tray.

“I… thought I had one,” she says, though all that’s there is an empty plate next to her toast. “Must’ve rolled off.” She plants her elbows on the table and holds her head up because it seems it can no longer hold itself up.

“Y’okay, there, Katara?” Suki asks, tilting her head as she watches Katara melt onto the table.

“‘M fine,” Katara mumbles, her cheeks squished up by the heels of her hands as her head slips lower.

“Katara hasn’t been sleeping much,” Sokka explains, and she doesn’t have the energy to glare at him. “Pre-Tournament stress.”

“But you’re gonna do great, Katara,” Aang says enthusiastically. She wishes she had the energy to glare at him too.

None of them understand what she’s dealing with. None of them understand the pressure she’s under. _Everyone_ is depending on her.

“At least you’ve got a couple more weeks before your first game,” Suki points out, and Katara groans in pain.

“More time to not sleep,” she grumbles. “Perfect.”

“You should find ocean sounds on YouTube or something,” Sokka says before tearing a strip of bacon with his teeth. “You can put it on when you’re trying to fall asleep.”

Suki clamps her hand over his mouth. “Please finish chewing first,” she says.

“Okay, _Mom_ ,” Sokka says, muffled behind her hand.

“Dude, that’s a weird thing to say to a girl you’ve kissed,” she says, frowning at him, and his face goes a bit red.

Aang seems to find it hilarious, but Katara can’t quite muster the same level of enthusiasm for anything right now.

“Anyway,” Suki adds, dramatically turning her head to address Katara. “I think you’ll feel better after this weekend. Once you see our game at the Air School, you’ll know that this will actually work. That the alliance actually has a chance.”

“I guess…” Katara mumbles. She glances down at her toast but can’t bring herself to eat it.

“It’s normal to be nervous, anyway,” Sokka says, his mouth no longer full of bacon. “This is your first time in the Tournament, it’s a lot to deal with.”

She looks over at him, though her eyes feel heavy. “Why aren’t _you_ nervous?” she asks. “It’s your first time in the Tournament, too.”

“Yes, but I only joined the team for extra credit to get my Waterbending grades up,” he says. “I’m not really invest—” He clamps his mouth shut, like he realizes this might not be the best thing to say to the captain of his team.

Katara doesn’t even have the energy to be indignant about it.

“I don’t think you guys have anything to worry about,” Aang says, taking on a more serious tone, like he’s trying to emphasize that this is important. It almost makes Katara want to laugh, but she’s pretty sure if she tried, all that would come out would be a sob. “If the teams help each other, there’s no way the Fire School could score more points.”

Katara wants to believe it, but she’s not sure she has enough hope left in her to dare.

“But also…” Aang adds slowly, looking down at his breakfast tray. “Even if you don’t… This is still about having fun…” He looks back up at her hopefully. “Right?”

“Man’s got a point,” Sokka says, and Katara lets her head fall to rest on her folded arms. She is so done.

She hears a chair scrape along the floor, across the table from her, and then Suki appears in the seat next to her, putting her arm around Katara’s shoulders.

“You don’t have to do this,” Suki whispers as she brushes Katara’s hair back. “Winning would be great, but you don’t have to wear yourself out trying to do it. You’re allowed to just have fun.”

Katara wants to say. _“I know,”_ but that would be a lie. Even if she does know it’s true, technically, it doesn’t feel right. She doesn’t _believe_ that it’s true. And how can she put her faith into something she can’t even believe in?

* * *

“The Air School’s defence is even worse than I imagined,” Azula says with a laugh as the Earth School scores yet another point against them. “It’s like they’re not even trying.”

Zuko mutters in agreement, though he hasn’t fully been paying attention. He keeps checking his phone for a response from Sokka. He’d asked if Zuko wanted to come to the game with him, but Zuko told him he couldn’t. His sister had asked him to come scope out the competition with her.

Which was partially true; Azula did ask him to come with her and critique the other teams’ plays. Look for weaknesses they could exploit in their own games. But it wasn’t the only reason he couldn’t go to the game with Sokka.

They agreed to keep their relationship mostly under wraps, for now. Neither wants to be seen as a liability to their School. And Sokka seemed to understand that. But he still thought they should be able to hang out as friends, publicly, and Zuko wasn’t sure he agreed. He knows that Azula, at the very least, wouldn’t approve of his _fraternizing_ with other Schools, and while he doesn’t really care what Azula thinks, he knows it could easily get back to his father, who always said that School pride was important. Their family’s been in the Fire School for generations, over a hundred years back, and loyalty to the School is paramount.

Working on a project or “accidentally” bumping into each other was one thing, but sitting next to each other at a Tournament game was another. Besides, Zuko isn’t sure he can trust Sokka not to do something risky, like try to hold his hand during the game. And he isn’t sure he can trust himself not to do the same, either.

They’ll have to get used to being apart, anyway. When Sokka gets into IET for the fall—and he _will_ get in—they’ll only be able to see each other on breaks and occasional weekends. Although sometimes Zuko can’t help but think that that’s all the more reason for them to spend every moment together that they can _now_ , while Sokka’s still here.

Azula barks out another incredulous laugh. “Earth School’s no better, look!”

“Yeah, that looked like it should have been easy to block with that pillar,” Ty Lee says, sitting at Azula’s other side.

“God, their defence couldn’t get any worse if they were trying to let the other team score,” Azula scoffs.

Zuko finally looks up long enough to watch the next toss. The Air School gets the ball first, though the person who caught it nearly drops it immediately. Someone from the Earth School could easily get it back, but they all just sort of run around, not really going anywhere. One of them half-heartedly makes a move for the ball, but the airbender passes it to another player on their team, who sends it flying towards the opposing team’s Avatar Goal. A few rocks go flying, but miss the ball by a large margin, and it goes sailing past the goal post, earning the Air School team the maximum points for a toss.

There’s no way the Earth School is that terrible.

Zuko looks up at the scoreboard above the arena and notices both team’s scores are awfully high for gameplay this incompetent. It seems Azula might be right; they couldn’t get any worse if they were just letting the other team score.

Because they are.

* * *

“What do you want?” Mai says when she opens the door to her room.

“Just checking in, dear,” Azula says. She pushes the door open a little wider and Mai steps out of the way.

She goes to sit on her bed, where she’s clearly been holed up watching YouTube videos all afternoon. Her hair looks like she hasn’t even brushed it today, which Azula notes with mild amusement.

“I wondered if you were sick,” Azula adds sweetly, her hands tucked behind her back. “You didn’t come to the game with us.”

“Why should it matter?” Mai asks, letting her arms rest over her bent knees. “I’m not on the team anymore.”

“Still,” Azula says, “I would have thought you’d like to come support your girlfriend.”

Mai looks up at her, eyes narrowed. “You guys weren’t even playing today,” she says.

“Yes, but I assume Ty Lee would like to spend time with you. Unless…”

“We’re fine,” she says, hugging her knees to her chest.

Azula puts on a look of sympathy. “Can I give you some advice?” she asks.

“You want to give me _relationship_ advice?” Mai scoffs. Azula most certainly does not let those words sting.

“Think of it more like… _Ty Lee_ advice,” she says. “She told me she asked you to the Victor’s Ball…”

Mai ducks her head to hide her face.

“If you aren’t going to take her to the ball, at least let her find someone who will,” Azula says, and Mai looks up at her again.

“You?” she asks, glaring.

Azula can’t hold in her laugh. “God, no. I was thinking one of the dozens of Fire School students who’ve had crushes on Ty Lee all year. Any of whom would be happy to take her to the ball.”

“She can go with whoever she wants,” Mai says. “I don’t own her.”

“No. But you have her heart,” Azula says. “And maybe it’s time you give it back. Because you don’t seem to know how to take care of it very well.” She can see Mai is close to cracking; she just needs a little push. “Do you really think you can give her what she wants? What she needs? Do you really think you deserve someone that kind and loving, when you can’t even hold her hand in public? You’re holding her back, Mai. Do you think that’s fair?”

Mai shuts her eyes and clenches her jaw, shaking with the effort it’s taking to hold it all in, and Azula taps her thumb against her phone, grasped in her hand behind her back.

“Mai—” Azula says softly, taking a step towards her.

“ _No!_ ” Mai snaps at her. “No, I don’t think it’s fair for Ty Lee to be stuck with me! I can’t give what she needs, I can’t be the person she wants me to be; I’m not that person, okay! I don’t care enough and I can’t— I can’t be that for her!” She pauses to take a breath. “So, yeah, maybe she should go to the ball with someone else. Maybe she should do everything with someone else. I don’t care.”

Azula gives Mai a sympathetic frown, then holds her phone out in her palm, screen facing the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Ty Lee,” she says towards it. “I’d hoped you were right about it, but I guess—”

“You _called_ her!” Mai shouts, springing up out of her bed to grab for the phone, but Azula adeptly keeps it out of her reach, switching hands behind her back.

“I was afraid you wanted to break up with her,” Azula says, “and she said you wouldn’t do that. But I could tell she had doubts, so I said I would—”

“You _told_ me to break up with her!” Mai makes another grab for the phone and this time get ahold of Azula’s wrist and pulls it close. “Ty Lee!” she says into the phone. “Just listen, please—”

“Hmm,” Azula says, waving the phone screen at Mai’s face. “Seems she hung up already.”

“How could you do this?” Mai says, her eyes wild with fury and surprise.

“What? You said you didn’t care. You agreed this is what’s best for her—”

“But not like that!”

“What does it matter now? It’s done,” Azula says. “And I don’t see why this should bother you that much. It’s not like Ty Lee’s feelings matter to you. Or you never would have strung her along in the first place. Now, at least, you won’t be toying with her anymore.”

The anger and disbelief on Mai’s face transition to disappointment and defeat, and she turns away from Azula. “Please leave,” she says, her voice already a little hoarse, like she’s going to cry. “Now.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Azula says, resting her hand briefly on Mai’s shoulder. She flinches. “You’ll see that it’s for the best.”

Mai doesn’t say anything else as Azula sees herself out.


	9. Chapter 9

“I’ll have you know that these supplementary team practices are cutting into my very important lazing around time,” Sokka says as he follows Katara to the Water School arena.

“Our first game is next week, and we need to be prepared,” she says, maintaining a brisk pace.

“It’s not even a real game, though,” he points out. “We’re just facing the Air School, and they’re going to let us win.”

Katara stops and whirls around to face him. “They are not going to _let us win_ ,” she says. “We are both helping each other score as many points as possible. But we still need to be good enough to actually score those points. We need to get the ball into the goals.”

“Yeah, but—” Sokka stops when something musical rings out from his pocket. He smiles guiltily at his sister as he pulls out his phone, and faces away from her to answer it. “Hey,” he says quietly. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Zuko says on the other end of the line, and Sokka can tell he’s nervous about calling. He doesn’t do it often. “I was just… What are you up to now?”

“Oh, uh—” Sokka says, scratching his undercut at the back of his head. He doesn’t want to lie to Zuko, but he also kinda sorta hasn’t told Zuko about making it onto the Water School team. “Not much,” he adds with a laugh.

“Do you want to hang out?” Zuko asks. “For the first time all week I’m not swamped with homework, so I thought—”

“I can’t,” Sokka blurts out. “I’m busy.”

“But you said—”

“Er, yeah, but then you said homework and I remembered I have a ton of it,” he continues. “Just, like, boatloads of homework. A metric shit-ton of—”

“Okay…” Zuko says hesitantly.

“I mean, otherwise I totally would! There’s no reason why I wouldn’t!” Sokka’s voice pitches up as he tries to cover for himself. He glances over at Katara who is watching him with a questioning look on her face. “Yeah, so, I have to go, lots and lots of homework, it’s not going to do itself, but I mean, wouldn’t that be great if—”

“Sokka—”

“Anyway, can’t really chat right now,” Sokka adds hurriedly. “Talk soon, love you, bye!”

His last words echo around in his skull as he ends the call abruptly. He said them in a rush, so there’s a chance Zuko didn’t actually catch the individual words, and therefore Sokka wouldn’t have to fling himself into the moat when they get to the arena.

“Who was that?” Katara asks when he turns and faces her sheepishly.

“Uh, telemarketer?”

“You told a telemarketer that you have a ton of homework?” she says, her brows in a flat line across her forehead.

“I mean, you know how it is,” he says, stretching his arms. “They just don’t take no for an answer—”

“Sokka, are you dating someone?”

“Am I— Hah— What— Why would I— I’d never—” he says, fumbling to find the words to get himself out of this conversation.

“You ended the call with, _‘love you, bye’_ ,” she says, and Sokka winces.

“So you heard that, huh?” he says with a grimace, and then mutters, “Guess that means he heard it too—”

“ _Who_ heard it?” Katara says insistently.

“The, uh, telemarketer…”

She sighs in frustration and rolls her eyes before continuing on towards the arena, feet stomping on the stone path. So now he’s lying to two people he cares about. That seems like a good plan.

Definitely won’t bite him in the ass.

* * *

Zuko hasn’t seen Sokka in nearly two weeks, and he certainly did not expect to see him here. At the Air vs. Water game. At least, he didn’t expect to see Sokka _on the Water School’s team_.

It occurs to Zuko that this might be the reason Sokka’s been too busy to see him lately. He thought maybe Sokka was just embarrassed after… Well, their last phone conversation ended rather abruptly, and with a parting message that left Zuko a little shaken, to say the least.

They’ve texted a bit since then, but nothing more than idle chatter and _‘sorry, i’m busy’_. He’d wished he could talk to Sokka, face to face, and figure out what was going on with him—but this seems to answer his question. At least, it answers why Sokka has been so busy the past few weeks. It doesn’t answer why he didn’t tell Zuko about any of this.

His brain concocts an elaborate and preposterous scheme; Sokka only pretended to apply to the Institute of Elemental Technology in order to get Zuko to help him train and get better, so that he could join his School’s team, and his entire relationship with Zuko thus far had been to weaken him for when their respective teams finally face off.

He knows it can’t be true. Sokka may be good at schemes, but he’s not that heartless. He’s not like everyone else in Zuko’s life (besides his uncle). He’s not using Zuko as a means to an end.

Probably.

Zuko lets his sister’s commentary on the game wash over him; he can only focus on one thing right now, and that’s watching his—lying and possibly scheming—boyfriend play Avatar. In other circumstances, he might be cheering Sokka on, and appreciating the view of him running around in that sleeveless jersey. But they could never have that, could they? Not as long as Zuko is in the Fire School and Sokka is in the Water School.

After the game, Zuko waits around outside the main doors of the building until he spots Sokka leaving with a few of his teammates. Zuko calls out to him to get his attention, before realizing he has no good reason to be doing so. Sokka and his teammates all turn to look at him.

“Um, I have a science question,” Zuko says meekly, which is about the most pathetic excuse he could come up with, especially considering he doesn’t have Science this term. “If you have a minute.”

Sokka tells the others to go ahead without him and then walks up to Zuko with a casualness that feels forced. He can clearly tell things are weird between them as well, but he doesn’t question it when Zuko leads him around the side of the building where there aren’t any people to overhear their conversation.

“So,” Zuko says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I suppose congratulations are in order. You made the team.”

Sokka smiles apologetically. “Yeah, okay, I should have told you, but—”

“You _should_ have told me,” Zuko says emphatically. “I don’t get why you—”

“See, I know you thought it was a bad idea, and I didn’t want—”

“So you lied to me? All those times you said you were swamped with homework… It was this, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but, see—”

“So, what, are you done with me now?” Zuko asks, even though he didn’t mean to jump there so quickly. “You got what you wanted—”

“What? No!” Sokka looks legitimately confused. “I just— This is something I need to do, and I didn’t want you to worry or…”

“Or what?”

Sokka winces slightly. “Or think that I was turning against you?” he says with the inflection of a question. “Because I’m not,” he adds quickly. “I don’t even really care if we win, I just— I _need_ this opportunity, Zuko.”

“I _know_ that,” Zuko snaps, his temper flaring up before cooling a little. “But… You lied to me. For weeks.”

“Only because—”

“It doesn’t really matter why. You— I can’t really believe anything you’ve said, can I?” he says, thinking back to their last verbal conversation.

“I was mostly telling the truth!” Sokka argues. “When I said I was busy, it’s because I was. Whether I was doing homework or at a team practice, it doesn’t change that. It’s not like I said I was busy just to avoid seeing you—”

“But how do I know that? Once you’ve lied about one thing, how do I know—”

“Zuko—” Sokka takes a step closer but he takes a step back. “Come on, I—”

“What am I supposed to think? We haven’t even seen each other in two weeks—”

“And whose fault is that?” Sokka’s arm gestures grow wider. “You’re the one who says we can’t be seen together anywhere, that we have to be careful,” he says. “I mean, isn’t that just lying, too?”

“That’s different,” Zuko says, his jaw set forward. “It’s better for both of us to lay low right now—”

“No, it’s better for _you_ ,” Sokka says, poking him hard in the chest. “You’re the one who’s ashamed about all of this—”

“I’m not _ashamed_ —”

“I want to be able to hang out with my boyfriend without worrying that someone might see us talking,” he continues, his voice going soft and sad around the edges. “I want to hold your hand without you pulling away.”

“We _can’t_ —”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Zuko says, eyes cast downward. “If people saw, they’d— They’d think—”

“Who cares what people think?” Sokka says. “I’m so sick of hiding everything I love just so that people don’t think… whatever it is they think about me!”

“I don’t want to make you hide,” Zuko mutters, keeping his head lowered. Sokka takes another step closer, but he doesn’t back away this time.

“I don’t want you to hide, either,” Sokka says quietly, bumping Zuko’s arm with his hand.

“It’s not that I want to be like this, I just…” Zuko trails off, shaking his head.

“Then don’t be.” Sokka moves even closer and brushes his hand against Zuko’s until turns his palm out for Sokka to hold it.

Zuko closes his eyes to keep himself from checking if the coast is clear. It shouldn’t matter. It _doesn’t_ matter. When he opens them again, Sokka is looking at him with a small smile, and the rest of the world stops existing anyway.

Sokka’s eyes flit down nervously. “Zuko, I—“ He swallows. “I _really like_ you. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I’d really like to stop lying. To you and everyone else.”

“I know,” Zuko says, the words scraping past his throat. He takes a breath. “Soon. Okay? I just… need some time to—”

“Okay.” Sokka squeezes his hand and then starts to let go, but Zuko holds on.

“But no more lying to each other, at least,” Zuko says.

“Deal.” Sokka smiles again, but it’s not as carefree as usual. “Well. I would kiss you goodbye right now, but you never know who might be watching—”

Zuko tugs on Sokka’s arm and he stumbles into Zuko’s chest. There’s no one around and they’re well shaded; it’s a calculated risk. Zuko gives him a short, sweet kiss. “I really like you, too.”

* * *

After last week’s game against the Air School, Katara feels much calmer about the whole Tournament. Both teams managed to score a lot of points; the Water School is ahead of the Fire School in totals already. She even gave the team a week off from training. They’re up against the Earth School this weekend, which should be another round of easy points.

It’s their game against the Fire School next week that they really need to be concerned about, but Katara thinks the team is prepared.

“Morning, guys,” says an approaching voice.

Katara and her friends look up from their breakfasts when Jet shows up unexpectedly, leaning on the end of their table with both hands.

“Can we help you?” Suki says, her tone a bit impatient. Katara gets the sense that Suki isn’t a big fan of her team captain, but he’s way better than Hahn was, so she’s not sure what Suki has against him.

“I was hoping to speak to Katara,” he says, flashing Katara a smile. “Privately.”

“Ooooooooo,” Sokka teases, and she shoots him a glare.

“Sure,” she says to Jet. She can feel her face getting hot as she stands, and she glares at Sokka again, even though he’s not making that sound anymore.

Jet leads her out into the hallway off the dining hall, his hand resting gently on her back. Her face heats even more, and by the time they find a quiet place to talk, she’s sure she’s red as a beet. She hugs her arms over her stomach, holding both her elbows, and tries to keep her head lowered enough that her face won’t be too obvious.

“So,” Jet says, leaning casually against the wall. “You guys did a really good job last week.”

Katara smiles shyly and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks.”

“Giving the Fire School a run for their money, that’s for sure.” He gives her a playful smirk, that she would almost think was flirty if she wasn’t—well, _her_. But his expression soon grows more serious and he slides a bit closer, lowering his voice. “You guys have a really great lead in points,” he says. “So I was thinking, maybe, you could give us a chance to catch up.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, taking a half step back.

“I mean, maybe you guys could take it easy in the next game,” he says, his voice taking on a harsher edge. “Let us close the gap a little.”

She frowns and shakes her head, trying to get this to make sense. “We’re going to help you score points,” she says. “That’s already the plan; we help each other—”

“But how about you let us score points, and you try not to score too many points on us?”

“I don’t see why it should matter—”

“You’re already in the lead, Katara,” Jet says, growing frustrated. “And if you don’t want to be facing the Fire School in the final match, then we need to catch up.”

“What does it matter if we score points, though—”

“Alright, I get it,” he says, standing up straighter. “You don’t care about the alliance anymore, now that you’re in the lead. You just want to win.”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“I thought when you replaced Hahn, your team would finally have some honour, but I guess I was wrong.”

She stares at him, angry and bewildered. “You’re asking me to take a dive; where’s the honour in that?”

“I don’t see the problem in letting us win,” he says. “It’s what this whole alliance was about anyway.”

“The alliance is about _all of us_ earning as many points as possible. It’s not about which one of us wins—”

Jet laughs sarcastically. “Yeah, of course you’d say that, because _you’re_ winning.”

“That’s irrelevant!”

“You’re just like Hahn, aren’t you?” he says, shaking his head. “You’re selfish, Katara. All you care about is winning. I thought you were cooler than that.”

Before she can respond, he pushes off from the wall and heads down the hallway, away from the dining hall, in his usual confident stride. It still makes no sense to her. Jet had always been so supportive of the alliance, of her ideas—he’d been supportive of _her_. She thought he respected her as a captain—a peer—at the very least, but that must have been a lie. If he respected her at all, he wouldn’t have asked her to do that.

She can’t imagine he would have asked Hahn to do such a thing. He must think she’s a pushover. A joke. Maybe that’s how everyone sees her.

She makes her way back to the table, and Sokka asks her what Jet wanted to talk about, his voice light and mocking.

“Nothing,” she mutters, staring down at her half-eaten breakfast. “It doesn’t matter.”

* * *

Katara watches, poised to make her move, as her brother runs at the ball. She shoots water at the rocky pillar, letting it seep into all the cracks, and immediately turns it to ice. The expanding ice weakens the pillar right as Sokka smacks the ball at it, and the whole thing crumbles. The ball bounces back to him before anyone can intercept it and he kicks it straight through the opponent’s Avatar Goal, right in the centre.

Katara drops her arms and laughs, almost in disbelief that they pulled it off. Sokka runs up to her and gives her a double high-five, and the other teammates circle around them in celebration. She’s grateful for the team; none of them had expected they would have to give it their all on offence this week, since they were supposed to have an agreement with the Earth School. And Katara didn’t tell anyone about Jet’s proposal.

She had hoped that he might come around and reconsider before the game, but they were on high defence straight from the first toss. Katara instructed her team to stick with the plan; continue letting the Earth School score points. She wasn’t petty enough to feel the need to deprive them of that. After all, she would rather their teams end up at the final than the Fire School. But the Water School couldn’t afford to lose out on points, either.

“That was a brilliant move, Hack Guy,” one of her teammates says, patting Sokka so hard on the back that he coughs.

It was a brilliant move—and it won them the game. But, more importantly, it gave their points total the boost they need if they want a chance of staying ahead of the Fire School when they face them next week.

The Water School is pronounced the victor, and both teams meet at the centre of the arena to thank each other for a good game. Katara smiles proudly when she goes to shake Jet’s hand, and he smiles back, then leans in to speak.

“I knew you were just a power-hungry poseur,” he says, and she squeezes his hand so hard he winces.

“And you’re a sore loser,” she says to him, still smiling. “I thought you were cooler than that.”

* * *

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Ty Lee says with a gasp. She reaches out towards Mai, who takes a step back.

Mai rubs her arm, where Ty Lee walked right into her when she turned the corner without looking, just as Mai stepped out of her room. “It’s fine,” Mai mutters, turning to finish locking up.

“No, I should have been looking,” Ty Lee says, clasping her hands in front of her mouth. Her hair is tied back in the braid she wears for training, and the bag slung over her shoulder suggests that’s where she’s just come from. A mix of jealousy and regret swirl around in Mai’s stomach, along with something softer, something she can’t quite name.

“Did you have a good practice?” she says quietly, still holding the key in the lock.

Ty Lee smiles a little, but it’s sadder than usual. “Yeah, it was fun,” she says. “Azula made people run a lap if they dropped the ball, which was kind of funny.”

The corner of Mai’s mouth twitches. “Sounds like Azula,” she says.

“I…” Ty Lee begins, more solemnly. “I wish we were both on the team, you know. It— Practices would be more fun if you were there.”

“Since when is anything more fun if I’m there?” Mai says, cutting her eyes over to Ty Lee as she finally pulls out her key.

Ty Lee frowns. “I always like when you’re around,” she says. “I’ve… missed you a lot, lately.”

Mai looks down but doesn’t say anything.

“Are— Are you going to be at the game tomorrow?” Ty Lee asks timidly.

“I—” Mai hesitates. She’d gone to the first Fire School game, but she wasn’t sure if she would go to the rest. It was hard, knowing what Azula had taken from her. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” she says, and Ty Lee’s face brightens a little.

“Really?” she says. “It’s going to be such a good game, we’ve been practicing our buns off!”

Mai stifles a laugh at Ty Lee’s word choice. For a second, she forgets that things are supposed to be different between them. For a second, she wonders if she could put things back together again. But it doesn’t last long.

She knows she can’t be with Ty Lee, no matter how much either of them want it to be that way. It would be selfish of her to try.

“Well,” Ty Lee adds, placing a hand on Mai’s arm, “I’ll look for you in the stands.” She smiles again before continuing down the hall to her room.

Mai waits until she hears Ty Lee’s door click shut before slumping against her own door, resting her head on the dark stained wood. If this is what it’s like not to care enough, she can’t even imagine how awful it must be to care the amount she’s supposed to. It would probably destroy her.

It might anyway.

* * *

If there’s one thing Sokka’s good at, it’s being bad at waterbending.

He’s not the _worst_ anymore, not after all the extra training he’s done this year, but at best he’s just below average for a Level 1 student. But it’s not his waterbending skills that secured him a spot on the team; he’s strong and fast and, most of all, clever as fuck. And super modest about it, too.

When he’s out on the court, surrounded by the best waterbenders at the Academy, it’s quite obvious he’s a bit lacking in that department. Which makes him look like the weakest link—and the last person the opposing team should be worrying about. Because, what nearly everyone at the Academy seems to forget, is that bending isn’t the only thing that matters.

Sokka slips through the other team’s defences while they’re busy fending off waterbenders, and manages to score two Spirit Goals, three Celestial Goals, and even one through the Avatar Goal. He notices Zuko staring at him after that one, and he feels a bit proud about that—and a bit guilty.

Sokka can’t help but notice, though, that Zuko is scoring nearly as many points against the Water School, and their victory is far from in the bag. Especially when the Fire School seems to catch on, and Sokka suddenly has people guarding every move he makes.

He nearly has a clear shot, but there’s an explosion of fire on the ground in front of him that forces him to jump back, and Zuko swoops in and steals the ball.

“Katara!” Sokka calls out as he runs after him.

Katara looks over quickly, and nods in understanding right away, before making the ground in front of Zuko slick with ice. She’s not allowed to use her bending directly against him, but manipulating the integrity of the court is fair game, and Zuko’s foot slides out from under him just before he tries to kick, and the ball skitters off to one side. Sokka grabs the ball and throws it to one of his teammates, who knocks it back to him as he runs into place and lines up a shot for the final shot of the game.

The final buzzer sounds right as the ball sails through, and Sokka laughs incredulously when he looks up at the scoreboard. It was a Spirit Goal, which isn’t worth as many points as the Avatar Goal—that goal was too heavily guarded after he scored the first time—but it’s still enough to tip them over the edge and into a win.

He high fives his closest teammate, grinning, and then finds his way over to Katara, who he picks up in a bear hug before she squeals at him to put her down. She’s laughing too, though. Winning against the Earth School last week was one thing, but defeating the reigning champions is something else entirely.

They’re not out of the woods yet, of course. They’ll have to face the Fire School at least one more time before the end of the Tournament, but this still proves they have a chance. They could really take this all the way.

The teams meet up in the centre of the arena to thank each other and shake hands; Sokka’s heart is racing when he faces Zuko, though. He’s worried Zuko might take all of this personally, even though it’s just a game. But Zuko’s smiling when Sokka walks up to him. It’s a polite smile, but still. Sokka takes it.

“Congrats,” Zuko says as they shake hands, and Sokka beams at him.

“Thanks,” he says. “You did great, too.”

Zuko nods shyly, his smile turning a bit sad, and he squeezes Sokka’s hand before moving on to the next person. Sokka watches him as his stomach twists. It seems bittersweet moments—like the chocolate—are not Sokka’s favourite.

* * *

“Do you think this is acceptable?” Azula asks, pacing in front of her teammates, who are gathered in the Fire School common room after their latest game. Normally there would be an afterparty with the entire School, but Azula cancelled it in favour of an emergency meeting.

“I am quite certain that I made myself clear,” she continues. “Under no circumstances are we to lose _any_ of the Tournament games. Those were your instructions. And yet—”

“Azula,” Zuko cuts in impatiently. “We can’t control what the other team is going to do. They bested us this time. Deal with it.”

“I will not _deal with it_!” Azula snaps at him. “I am your captain and I demand—”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” says someone near the back of the group.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“We were a mess today, Azula,” Zuko says. “You told us to play aggressively, but that left us vulnerable to—”

“It’s not my fault if you all can’t stop one kid!” she says. “He’s not even a good bender!”

“All our training has been about combatting bending techniques,” Zuko points out. “But there’s more to Avatar than that, and maybe we need to start looking at the game as a whole.”

Azula glares at her brother. “I don’t think you’re in any position to criticize my leadership—”

“Why not?” someone else says. “He scored way more points than you did.”

“And he seems to know what he’s talking about!”

“What are you saying?” Azula says bitterly. “You’d rather _he_ be your captain? He’s not even a good firebender.”

“Clearly that’s not all that matters—”

“He’s a liability to the team,” she adds. She looks back at Zuko, and smirks a little at the fear that flickers on his face. So it’s true. Good to know.

“He’s the best Avatar player we’ve got.”

“Until he lands face-first in our own defences,” Azula says dryly.

The meeting devolves into arguments and shouting, and she relaxes a little. As long as they are fighting amongst themselves, the heat will stay off her for a bit. The last thing she needs is a coup, this late in the game. When she’s so close to victory.

“That’s enough!” Zuko shouts as he rises to his feet. He looks out at his teammates. “We can’t keep going this way or we’ll risk everything. We need a better strategy. We need—”

“What you need is commitment to the goal,” Azula says, and he turns to face her.

“And what goal would that be?” he asks sarcastically. “The goal where we win the Trials for another year and keep our place at the top of the Academy? Or the goal where _you_ score the most individual points and leave the rest of us out to dry?”

“I don’t see why we can’t do both—”

“Because,” he says angrily, and she’s almost surprised that fire doesn’t come out of his fists when he says it, “in order to win as a team we need to work as a team, Azula! We are not just here to do your grunt work, we’re here to win!”

The rest of the team starts applauding, startling him and Azula both.

She watches in disbelief as the unthinkable happens.

* * *

Azula storms off as soon as the team votes.

It’s not that Zuko had been pushing for this, exactly, but he can’t say he’s not pleased about it. For the most part. He’s wanted to be team captain since he joined in his first year, and he thought the way to do that was to work hard and be a team player and make good decisions. But Azula proved all it took was a handful of manipulation.

He’d like to think that his method is what got him to this point today, though there’s a part of him that worries he used more of Azula’s method than he would have liked. Why else would he feel guilty when she stormed off like that?

He thanks the rest of his teammates and tells them they did a good job at the game today, but he leaves them to celebrate their near-victory on their own so he can check on his sister.

“Should I see if she’s okay?” Ty Lee asks, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Zuko shakes his head. “Have fun with the others,”he says. “I need to do this myself.”

He finds Azula outside, in front of the building, clearly at a loss for where to go next. She doesn’t acknowledge him when he calls her name, she just starts marching off in the direction of the arena.

“Azula, wait,” he says, jogging to catch up with her. “I’m sorry it happened this way, I didn’t mean for—”

“Oh, fuck off,” she snaps, which startles him a little. She usually thinks cursing is beneath her. “You got what you’ve wanted all along; don’t pretend to care now.”

“I didn’t want _this_ ,” he says, gesturing back towards the dormitory. “I wasn’t trying to start a mutiny or anything, I just thought—”

“You’re full of it, you know that?” she says, coming to an abrupt stop. “All that nonsense about working as a team—you were just buttering them up so they’d vote for you.”

“I said all of that because it’s true—” he tries to argue, but she interrupts him with a sharp laugh.

“As if you care about the team at all,” she scoffs.

“More than you do!”

She leans in menacingly. “You may have them all fooled for now, Zuzu,” she says, “but they might rethink their decision if they knew about your _secret_ _boyfriend_.”

Zuko freezes, like he’s just had ice dumped down his back. “What?”

“On the Water School team. The one who’s bad at waterbending, right? It’s kind of cute actually; weak benders must flock together—”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“I’ve suspected it for a while, in fact, though I wasn’t certain who it was until today,” she continues. “But you really should learn to be more discreet. Your face gives it all away.”

Zuko can feel his face go red. “Azula—”

“I’m not going to tell anyone, though.” She stands back and crosses her arms haughtily. “But you should know that you’re a traitor to your team and to your School, and you should hate yourself for it.” She flashes him a phony smile and then turns on her heel, continuing on towards the arena. He doesn’t follow her.

He gets a text on his way back inside the dorm. From Sokka.

_“you seriously were great today,”_ it reads, followed by a heart-eyes emoji.

Zuko shoves his phone back in his pocket. He wishes the message made him feel better, but it only makes things worse. Azula should be pleased, though; he does hate himself for it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates today. Make sure to read chapter 9 first.

Mai isn’t surprised to find Zuko in the common room when she comes downstairs in the middle of the night; she’s found him there several nights over the past few weeks, since he was made team captain, and she’s skillfully avoided him every time. But she doesn’t avoid him tonight; she’s too exhausted to care.

She can tell he’s surprised to see her, even though she approached on his right side to avoid sneaking up on him.

“Sorry,” she mutters, holding up her hands when he flinches.

“No, I— I wasn’t expecting anyone to—” he says, ruffling his hair. “Um. Hey.”

“Hey.” She nods at the kettle. “There enough for me?”

“Oh, uh—” He quickly picks it up off the base and takes it to the sink to add more water.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

The kettle is slow to boil, leaving the silence awkward and heavy between them, until Zuko speaks again.

“I haven’t seen you around much lately,” he says as he flicks the tag hanging out of his mug.

“I thought… people might want space,” Mai says, though it’s far too close to the truth for her liking.

“What people?”

“You, I guess,” she says. “And Ty Lee…” His shoulders tense up when she says it.

“What, uh… What happened? With you and Ty Lee?” he asks hesitantly. “Azula said—”

Mai turns her head to look right at him. “What’s Azula telling people?”

He looks flustered. “I— I don’t know. She just said you guys had a falling out, but— I thought— It seemed like—”

“Like what?”

“Like… there’s more to it than that?”

She looks down at her own mug and flicks the tag. “It’s close enough,” she says.

“I just…” Zuko begins, though he pauses to swallow nervously. “I thought you two were really close and… Well, the way you’re avoiding her is kind of like after we broke up…”

“It’s nothing,” she mumbles.

“I always thought—” He pauses again. “I always kind of thought you were in love with her.”

Mai’s ears get hot; she keeps staring down at her mug to avoid his gaze. “I’m…” she begins, but she doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s so tired of lying. So she nods.

Zuko sucks in a breath next to her. “Right,” he says, more to himself than to her. “Even when we were dating, I thought— I mean… It was hard.” He ruffles his hair again. “I— I wanted to be your favourite person.”

Mai’s hands curl into fists against the counter. “Well, was I your favourite person?” she asks, and he lowers his head.

“I guess I thought so at the time,” he says. “I don’t know. I don’t like very many people.”

“Me neither.”

“I like you, though.” He nudges her with his elbow. “Even after everything.”

She wants to argue that that’s impossible, that he should hate her. Everyone should. But she just nods. “I like you, too,” she says. “I— I did care about you. That’s why I couldn’t—”

“I know,” he says solemnly. “I shouldn’t have said— Well. I’m sorry, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, too…”

The silence fills with the sound of the kettle coming to a boil, and Zuko pours the water into each of their mugs. Mai thanks him and picks up her mug, but he stops her before she can walk away.

“D’you wanna sit and have tea with me?” he says, nodding towards one of the couches. “I feel like maybe we could both use a friend right now.”

She could say no. She could tell him he’s ridiculous and she doesn’t need him as a friend or as anything. She could dump her boiling hot tea on him. She could—

She squeezes her eyes shut, briefly, and nods. “That would be nice.”

* * *

“This… could be a problem,” Katara says, watching the game unfold before her.

“Yeah, it’s maybe not ideal,” Sokka agrees, his voice strained.

They’d watched the Fire School play against the Earth School a few weeks ago, with Zuko as their new team captain, and they walked away with the victory, but it was a close one, at least. Now, though…

The last round of games is taking place at the Fire School arena, and it’s immediately clear that they know exactly how to use the setting to their advantage. It seems like everything can be set on fire, and they play each part of the court like an instrument, with Zuko conducting the orchestra. They are a well-oiled machine, and the Earth School can’t get a single goal.

“They’re really in their element, huh,” Aang says, leaning forward in his seat and peering down at the court with a frown on his face. Katara and Sokka exchange a look before he realizes what he’s said. “Oh, heh, yeah,” he says with a laugh. “Literally.”

“I don’t know how we’re going to have enough water to deal with all this fire,” Katara says. “We’ll be lucky if we can block half their shots. Especially if— See?” She gestures down towards the court. “How are we supposed to stop a maneuver like that?”

“Zuko’s good, yeah,” Sokka says.

“Oh, now he’s just showing off!” she adds, throwing her hands in the air. “We get it, you can throw a ball!”

“Uh, he threw it hard enough to bounce off the—” Aang starts to say, but Katara glares at him and he shuts up.

“I saw that, yes,” she says.

“It was pretty clever to get the angle to work like that—” Sokka adds, but Katara glares at him too. “What?” he says. “I’m agreeing with you. He’s… totally showing off.” He chuckles nervously and returns his attention to the game, fanning himself with his shirt, despite the fact that the stands are air conditioned.

“Well do you have any ideas how we can combat this?” she asks him, but he’s not even listening anymore.

“Jeez, did you see that?” he says, waving his arms emphatically. “He just leapt right over the—” He stops suddenly and lowers his arms, sitting up straighter. “I mean. It’s not that impressive.”

The rest of the game does nothing to allay Katara’s concerns about their own match here in a couple weeks. So far, the Water School has a good chance of making it to the final—but so does the Fire School. They’ll most likely have to face off in the final match, and they’ll need to have the most points going into that match, or it’ll be on Fire School turf again.

Katara doesn’t like their odds.

* * *

Sokka sits on the ground with his back against the outer wall of the Fire School arena, around the back where he can be alone. He absently picks at the blades of grass around his legs, though most of the grass in this spot has been worn away, leaving a dusty patch of dirt that definitely isn’t doing his jeans any favours.

He looks up when he hears footsteps approaching, and grins. “You made it,” he says, brushing dirt off as he gets to his feet.

“Well, I—” Zuko says, holding up his phone. “I got your text.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not often I can catch you when you’re not busy, Mr. Captain Guy,” Sokka says with a laugh.

“That’s a terrible nickname.”

“I’ll think of something better later, just— _C’mere_.” He motions with wide arm gestures for Zuko to follow him into an alcove with a sealed emergency exit, grabbing Zuko’s hand as soon as he’s within reach.

Sokka whirls around when he reaches the corner of the alcove, and pulls Zuko into him, meeting him with a kiss. “Hi,” he says. “I missed you.” He gives Zuko a kiss on his cheek where it’s starting to go red.

“Yeah, me too,” Zuko says, tentatively kissing him back, but only briefly.

“You were amazing today, by the way,” Sokka adds, hugging him closer. “We’re really going to have to step it up if we want a chance, huh?”

“Thanks,” Zuko says, not meeting Sokka’s desperate gaze.

“It was cool watching you out there,” Sokka continues hopefully. “I know you’re not ready to let people know yet, but I would really love to go to the next game wearing a shirt that says, _‘Zuko knows how to score; trust me’_.”

Zuko lets out an unflattering snort-laugh and Sokka breaks into genuine laughter without letting go.

“I mean, it’s very hard for me not to brag about dating the hottest guy on the Fire School team,” he says. “That’s like double hotness.”

“Oh, god, please don’t say that to people,” Zuko says, running a hand over his blushing face.

Sokka kisses him again, lingering a bit longer. “Let’s go back to my room,” he says quietly.

“That’s… not a good idea,” Zuko replies, pulling away slightly.

“If anyone sees you, we’ll say I’m tutoring you,” Sokka says with a smirk. “I mean, if it’s even that big a deal—”

“Of course it’s a big deal,” Zuko says harshly, putting more space between them. “If anyone found out, it would be a really big deal.”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “There’s only a few weeks left of the term anyway, I don’t see what the—”

“We can’t be seen together, Sokka. At all.”

“You don’t mean that—”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Zuko says, removing Sokka’s hands from his back. “I don’t want my team thinking of me as a traitor.”

Sokka laughs incredulously. “What? That’s ridiculous. No one actually cares—”

“Maybe no one on your team cares. But it’s different in the Fire School. Loyalty matters, it’s— I can’t betray them.”

“And what about me?” Sokka asks, letting his arms hang at his sides. “Do I not get any loyalty?”

“Sokka…”

“No, I’m serious,” he says. “It’s one thing to keep things quiet for a bit, but you’re saying we can’t be seen together at all? How are we supposed to see each other, then?”

Zuko closes his eyes for a moment. “We won’t,” he says. “Not until after the Tournament.”

“Oh,” Sokka says, another incredulous laugh bubbling out of him. “So until the Tournament’s over, we’re nothing—”

“We’re not _nothing_ ,” Zuko says defensively. “We can still… text, I guess. And it would be like this anyway, wouldn’t it?” he adds. “If you get into IET for next year?”

Sokka tries not to let heart sink over the fact that Zuko has stopped saying _when_ and started saying _if_.

“That’s all the more reason to spend time together now, isn’t it?” he says, swallowing the thick lump in his throat.

“Just a few more weeks, Sokka—”

“You’ve been saying that all term. And I’ve been patient about it. I don’t want to make you do something you’re not comfortable with but—” Sokka pauses to take a deep breath. “But if this is really where your priorities are, then maybe this just isn’t working.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Zuko says, his temper flaring up. “I’m just asking you to give me a few weeks to—”

“And I’m asking you to give _me_ a few weeks,” Sokka cuts in. “With you. Since, if I’m lucky, I won’t be back next term. I want us to have right now, but if you’d rather have your pride or whatever, then so be it. Enjoy your pride. But I’m out.”

“This isn’t fair—”

“No,” he says, sidestepping around Zuko. “It isn’t.”

* * *

Katara wipes the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand before raising another ice block to stop Zuko’s shot on their Avatar Goal. The ball ricochets back to him and he manages to slam it through the Celestial Goal for half the points. But every point counts when the game is so close, and the Fire School is back in the lead.

She knows this isn’t good. They’ve managed to keep out the majority of the Fire School’s shots by using all their water on defence, but it means they haven’t had much bending power to spare on making shots of their own. Sokka’s been able to get a few, but the Fire School team is coordinated and aggressive. Zuko has stolen the ball on more than one occasion, and Sokka has to remain constantly on his toes to avoid stepping in a hotspot.

Sokka steals the ball on the next toss, and Katara watches him make his way across the court. Most of the opposing team has their eyes on him, too, but Katara catches a glimpse of the look on Azula’s face and knows that Sokka’s in trouble.

Katara sends the water from her block flying at him just in time to put out the fireball heading his way, dousing him in the process. He cries out in surprise, but it’s better to be soaking wet than burned.

The game is paused while the judges confer. What Azula did went against the very first rule of the game, which is to never use bending directly on a player. If Katara hadn’t realized what Azula was about to do, Sokka would be rushed to a hospital right now. But in saving him, Katara used her bending on him too, technically.

The judges make the call that both Azula and Katara must sit out for the remainder of the game, even though there’s barely a minute left on the clock. But it also means that Sokka is granted a free shot. Katara thinks the Fire School should be disqualified altogether; it wasn’t just that Azula tried to use her bending against him, she tried to severely and permanently injure him—or worse. All so they could keep their lead?

The only slight upside is that the rest of the Fire School team seems be angry about it too, though whether or not that’s just because Sokka gets a free shot now is unclear. Zuko, however, had to be held back when he charged at her. At least that clearly wasn’t an intended part of their strategy.

Katara can see Sokka shaking, even from the sidelines. He’s just had quite a shock, and now their team’s fate rests on him scoring a goal, soaking wet, after nearly facing great injury. So she can’t blame him. But there won’t be time for another toss after this; it’s their only chance at winning.

He gets a running start and kicks the ball, hard, but it veers off and narrowly misses the Avatar goal. The Fire School supporters in the stands go wild, although the actual team’s response is slightly dampened by the fact that one of their own nearly committed an actual crime.

Katara rushes up to Sokka to hug him, and he goes limp in her arms.

“I blew it,” he says, his voice muffled in her shoulder. “I should have just gone for the Spirit Goal, that would have been enough points, but I wanted to—”

“I know,” she says reassuringly. “You still did great, okay? We’re all proud of you,” she adds, as the rest of the team huddles around them.

A few of them tell Sokka he did a great job, as well, and he thanks them all with a wave.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Katara says, hooking Sokka’s arm over her shoulder so she can support him.

“But the handshake,” he says feebly.

“Screw the handshake,” she tells him. “They crossed a line, and they’re gonna pay for it.”

“But… They won, Katara. They’re in the lead and everything.”

“Yes, but we’re close behind. And we are going to kick their butts in the final!”

Sokka snorts. “You can’t even say _asses_.”

“Fine,” Katara says with an exaggerated huff. “We’re going to kick their… asses.”

“Ahh, you’re the best,” Sokka says fondly, rubbing his knuckles against the top of her head.

“Quit it or I leave you behind.”

He pats her on the head with an open palm. “Nah,” he says. “You would never leave anyone behind.”

* * *

“Hmm,” Azula says when she opens the door to find Zuko standing outside her room. “Should I prepare myself for some sort of fight?”

“I’m glad to see you think this is funny,” Zuko says, not a hint of amusement on his face.

“What? Your overreaction?” she says. “It is kind of funny.”

“You _attacked_ a player, Azula—”

“I did not _attack_ him.” She rolls her eyes. “I was only trying to scare him, make him back off. I was in complete control; I wasn’t going to let it touch him.”

“And why should I believe you?” he says, raising his voice.

She raises her voice to match—it doesn’t matter, since everyone else is downstairs by now. “Because I’m not stupid, _brother_ ,” she snaps. “I would never risk disqualifying us from the Tournament by doing something so _base_.”

“See, the reason to not attack another person should be _because you have a heart_ ,” he says. “Fear of punishment should not be the only thing stopping you from straight-up murdering people, because I know you and you’re not afraid of anything.”

She rolls her eyes again. “I have no interest in _murdering_ anyone, Zuko,” she says. “And the judges reviewed the footage after the game—it was clear that I was already pulling the flame back by the time Little Miss Fire Hose put it out. No one was in any danger.”

“It was still a risky move, Azula!” he says. “You’re not the captain anymore; it’s my job to make calls on stuff like this, not yours.”

“What was I supposed to do, then? Let your boyfriend stroll right past our defences and score a winning goal?”

“Considering you handed him a free shot, that’s exactly what you did!”

“Thankfully he’s a terrible shot.”

“He’s not, though!” Zuko snaps. “He’s not a terrible shot, when he hasn’t just been attacked and soaked! And he’s not— He’s not my boyfriend.” He mumbles the last part.

Azula feigns surprise. “Oh, I didn’t realize,” she says. “What happened?”

He glowers at her. “None. Of your. Business.”

“It’s probably for the best, anyway,” she says. “Considering he’s currently the biggest threat to our victory in the final…”

“That doesn’t mean you can send him to the hospital to get him out of the game!”

“But it would be handy if there were some way to remove the threat, wouldn’t it?” she says, raising an eyebrow.

Zuko scowls at her. “What are you suggesting?”

“Just, if it turned out that _he_ had broken a terrible rule, he might get taken off the team for the final match.”

“What rule has he broken?”

“Oh,” Azula says with a smile, “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

* * *

This is absolutely the worst thing Zuko has ever done. No question.

This is even worse than that time when Azula was just a toddler, and he gave himself a bite on the arm and claimed she did it so she would get in trouble and he would get ice cream. He felt bad about it afterwards—but not for very long, because she actually did bite him a few hours later.

But this is much, much worse. (Which is not surprising; it was Azula’s idea, after all.)

Zuko’s not even sure where Azula got the performance-enhancing drugs in the first place—he knows for a fact she would never use such a thing herself, because she would never accept help from _anything_ —but he didn’t bother asking. He was trying to convince himself that the more ignorant he stayed, the less horrible it was for him to be involved at all. It was an obvious lie, but it helped not to think about it too hard.

He would have just made Azula do all of it herself, but he possesses a notable advantage; he knows Sokka better than almost anyone. Most importantly for this mission, though, he knows Sokka’s class schedule and which school bag is his. It makes it much easier to slip into the Water School arena changing room while he’s in his Waterbending class, and slip a baggy into one of his notebooks.

Zuko’s not proud of it. He’s not even remotely happy about it. But he has an obligation, as team captain, to make sure his School wins this year’s Trials. If they don’t— Well, he doesn’t want to think about that.

Because, while Azula might think that murdering someone is boring and beneath her, he’s not so sure his father feels the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about the performance enhancing drugs in this fic: I'm operating under the assumption that they are specific to this AU, where bending exists, and relate to that specifically, and are not illegal but just against the rules of the Academy. I probably should have made that clearer, but hindsight, etc.


	11. Chapter 11

“You seem… in an awfully good mood,” Katara says warily when Sokka sets his breakfast tray on the table.

“Do I?” he replies, grinning, as he sits down. “Well, I figure, my life is ruined, so I might as well enjoy it.”

“Oh, it’s that kind of mood,” Suki says, patting him on the shoulder.

“What?” he says with a laugh. “I’m fine. So what if I’m off the team? I don’t even care about the Tournament. It’s _fine_.”

“Yeah, but—” Katara starts, but she cuts herself off, like she’s not sure what to say.

“It’s not like I was, you know, depending on this for my future or anything.” He forces himself to laugh again but it scrapes past his throat and he coughs. “I mean, even if I get kicked out of the Academy—”

“You aren’t getting kicked out,” she says sternly, as though her level of conviction will determine his fate.

“I guess we’ll see at the hearing—”

“You are _not_ getting kicked out,” she repeats. “I won’t let it happen.”

“Yeah Sokka,” Aang says. “We’ll vouch for you. They’ll have to believe the word of a super-genius, right?”

Sokka smiles a little. “If they know what’s good for them, yeah.”

“It’s not over yet,” Suki says as she rubs soothing circles over his back. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Thanks, guys,” he says, taking on a more serious tone. “But all that matters right now is that you kick the Fire School’s asses tomorrow.”

“And how are we supposed to do that without you?” Katara says, her eyes going sad. “You’re the best Avatar player we have. Without you we’ll have to put Hahn in the game—”

“He’s a decent waterbender,” Sokka points out.

“But there isn’t enough water!” she says. “There’s only one pond, plus whatever we can bring in those stupid little regulation flasks. That’s hardly enough to defend us, let alone take down their defences too. Even if we can collect up the water as it evaporates, it’s still not enough.”

“It’s too bad fire isn’t made of water,” Aang says offhandedly. The others turn their attention to him all at once. “Um, I mean, there’s a lot of fire there, so, uh, it would be cool if you could use that.”

“Wait,” Sokka says, slamming his hands down flat on the table. “You’re not totally wrong.”

Aang’s face lights up. “I’m not?” he says eagerly.

“Fire isn’t made of water, but water is a byproduct of combustion,” Sokka explains. “See, when a hydrocarbon is burned with oxygen—” He stops when he sees his friends’ faces glaze over. “Right, okay, not important. But! Water is released into the air, meaning all that fire is literally _making_ water.”

“Whoa,” Aang sighs, eyes wide.

“In theory, you should be able to bend the water from the air around the flame to put it out,” Sokka concludes. “Although… I’ve never been able to get it to work, myself.” He looks at Katara. “But a stronger waterbender than me might be able to do it.”

Katara looks hesitant. “I don’t know…” she says. “It’d be risky to try a technique like that when we don’t even know for sure that it’ll work.”

Sokka nods. “I know. But if you need more water, it might be your only option.”

“How did you even come up with this?” Suki asks, with an impressed laugh.

“Oh, uh—” He pushes his hand through his hair nervously. “It’s just a… project I’ve been working on. In my spare time. It’s nothing.”

“You just… come up with obscure waterbending techniques in your spare time?” Katara asks skeptically.

“Heh. You know me.”

“Yeah.” She narrows her eyes. “I do.”

Sokka chuckles nervously and picks up a strip of bacon, ripping into it with his teeth. “Mmm, gotta love bacon!”

Suki pinches his lips together. “We’ve been over this, dude. Chew, then talk.”

* * *

“Defence,” Katara says, addressing her teammates to her left, “keep up the good work. We’re blocking most of their shots, but we can’t focus everything on defending the Avatar Goal. Zuko keeps faking us out and going for a Spirit Goal at the last minute. They’re good; they know it’s easier to rack up points that way.”

Her teammates nod in agreement.

“And offence,” she continues, turning to her right, “we just need to put out fires. Whatever we can. Try to clear a path for our shooters—”

“It’d be easier to put out fires if defence wasn’t hogging all our water,” Hahn cuts in, and Katara glares at him.

“We can’t afford to weaken our defences,” she says. “We’re close enough that we could win this if we score a couple more goals, but only if we stop _them_ from getting any more.”

“And I’m saying, if we don’t get more goals, it won’t matter,” Hahn argues. “They’re already in the lead.”

“I’m not putting our Temple at risk by lowering our defences,” Katara says sternly. “If we need more water—” She pauses to consider this decision one last time. “If we need more water, try bending it out of the air around the flames.”

“What?”

“Just— If we get desperate,” she says. “I know most of you don’t have experience bending water out of the air, but—”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Hahn says.

“But it might be our only—”

The buzzer sounds, indicate the next toss is about to start, and Katara tells her team to get into position. They only have a couple chances left to win this. She actually thinks they have a chance of winning the match—the scores are pretty close—but they’ll need to win by a decent margin in order to beat the Fire School in total points for the year.

They get the ball on the next toss, and one of the shooters manages to score a Celestial Goal, which is good, but it’s not enough. The Fire School gets it on the next toss, and they almost score another Spirit Goal, but the Water School’s defence blocks it at the last second, and deflects it towards their own shooter. He kicks it towards the Fire School’s Spirit Goal, but it veers off and goes out of bounds; the toss is reset in the Fire School’s favour.

They end up scoring a Celestial Goal, but the Water School gets the ball on the next toss. There’s not much time left in the game—this could be the last one. If they don’t score an Avatar Goal, then they’ve lost everything. Katara knows the shooter knows this, because he’s heading straight for the goal, dodging bursts of fire on the way. There’s too much, though. He’s not going to make it past their blockade.

Without a second thought, Katara plants her feet in one of the stronger waterbending stances she knows and reaches out towards the fire blocking his path. Bending water out of the air is tricky; she’s only managed it a few times. It takes all of her concentration, and she doesn’t have time to second-guess herself. She’s sweating and straining her muscles, but she doesn’t let go. With one final push, the water in the air above the flame condenses together in one large, hovering orb, and with a surprised laugh, she lets it drop right onto the fire, snuffing it out long enough for the shooter to get through and make the final shot of the game.

The audience erupts with applause and screaming—they scored.

Katara can hardly believe it. She looks up at the scoreboard, blinking sweat out of her eyes. They won. The Water School won. They defeated the Fire School in the final match. No one has defeated the Fire School in the final match for at least a hundred years.

She wants to laugh and cry at the same time. Because as sweet as the victory is, she knows it’s not enough.

They’re two points shy of the Fire School’s total.

The team is already huddled around her, though, jumping for joy and hugging each other, just celebrating their hard-earned win. Because that’s what it is. It’s a win.

Which almost makes the loss that much worse.

When Katara approaches the centre of the court for the end-of-game handshake, she’s surprised by Zuko’s sombre demeanour. She would have thought he’d be gloating about his overall win. Instead he congratulates her for a game well played.

But then he adds, quieter, “You used Sokka’s ‘life hack’.”

She frowns at him, confused, but doesn’t ask him how he knows. Perhaps he’s seen the sort of things Sokka comes up with, as his lab partner for a term.

“How is he?” Zuko asks, his eyes soft with concern.

She narrows her eyes at him. “Well, he has a hearing the week after next to determine if he’s to be _expelled_ , so I’d say not great,” she says bitterly.

He lowers his head and nods. “Okay,” he says. “Thank you.”

She watches as he moves on to shake the next person’s hand, wondering why he should even care.

* * *

“Hey,” Mai says, walking up to Zuko as he locks up outside his room. “You heading down to the party?”

He shakes his head. “I have to go do something.”

“But… you guys just won,” she says. She tilts her head to see the serious look on his face.

“Not really,” he mutters. He shoves his keys in his pockets and turns towards the stairs, but she puts a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Wait, what’s up with you?” she asks. “I thought you’d be happy about this.”

He turns to look her in the eye. His eyes seem sad. “We shouldn’t have won,” he says. “I… I did something terrible and— And now I’ve hurt someone I care about.”

“I…” Mai begins hesitantly. “I think I know a thing or two about that.”

“I don’t know if I can ever make things right,” he says. “But you can.”

She lowers her hand from his arm. “What—”

“With Ty Lee,” he clarifies. “You can tell her how you feel, tell her the truth.”

“I don’t think—” she says, shaking her head.

“Shutting people out doesn’t make it hurt less. It just…” He trails off, pushing a hand through his freshly washed hair. “You can’t just pretend you don’t care and think that makes it easier. I tried that and I… I really fucked up.”

“I can’t exactly go and tell her how I feel,” Mai argues. “What if she wants to get back together?”

Zuko frowns at her. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” she says, a bit too much desperation in her voice. “She doesn’t deserve that. She’s such a good person and I— I’m… not.”

“What?”

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to trick her—”

“You’re not _tricking_ anyone, Mai,” he says. “The people who love you know who you are and they love you because of it, not in spite of it. You know that, right?”

Mai tries to look pissed off to avoid tearing up in front of him. “Sounds fake,” she says.

“Ugh. Come here,” he says with an impatient sigh, opening his arms for a hug.

She stands still and lets it happen before awkwardly patting him on the back. The familiarity of it is oddly comforting, though.

“You have a big heart,” he says into her hair. “Even though you hide it to keep it safe. But you can trust Ty Lee.”

Mai watches him as he takes a step back.

“And trust yourself, too, okay?” he says. He smiles a little. “Ty Lee talks about you a lot, you know.”

“She—” Mai rubs her cheek, like she’s trying to wipe away the blush she can feel creeping up her face.

“Talk to her,” he adds, holding her by the shoulders. “You can fix this.” He takes another step back. “And now I have to go try to fix things, even though I have no idea how.”

“Good luck, I guess,” she says to him. “With whatever it is.”

“Thanks.” He gives her a nod before heading towards the north staircase, to the front door.

She watches until he disappears around the corner and then heads to the south staircase, leading down to the common room. She owes someone a congratulations, at the very least.

* * *

All eyes turn on him as he makes his way through the crowded common room. It’s obvious they weren’t expecting to see him here, and why would they? Zuko’s not usually one to crash the Water School’s afterparties. But this is important.

A few people boo at him and tell him to go home, but he spots Katara sitting on a couch at the other side of the room, and figures that’s a good place to start looking. Someone throws an empty soda can at him and it bounces off his shoulder, but he ignores them all.

When he reaches Katara, she’s talking to a girl with white hair that he doesn’t know, but Sokka is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Sokka?” he asks, and both girls look up at him, startled.

“Why do you care?” Katara replies, her expression going ice cold.

“I need to talk to him,” he says. “Please.”

Her face softens a little, but her brow remains creased. “He’s in his room,” she says. “I don’t know if he’ll want to talk to you, though.”

“I know,” he says with a nod. “Thank you.”

He makes his way back through the clusters of people. Someone else throws something that lands in his hair, and he swipes at it, pulling out a chip. He groans when he realizes that the crumbs are stuck to his hair where it’s still wet, and he tries to comb them all out with his fingers as he makes his way up the stairs.

Zuko hesitates a minute before knocking on Sokka’s door, and contemplates running away in the time it takes for him to answer. But Zuko knows he can’t run away from this mistake.

“Oh,” Sokka says, clearly surprised to see him. “I thought you’d be Katara.”

“No?” Zuko says weakly. “Just… me.”

Sokka’s eyebrows go flat. “Can I help you?”

“I, uh— Can we talk for a minute?”

“Okay,” he says, leaning against the doorframe with his arms cross over his chest, holding the door open with his foot. “Talk.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Zuko says. He takes a breath to steady himself. “I… I need to apologize. I did something… terrible. And— And it was wrong, and I fucked up, and I—” He closes his eyes for a second before continuing. “I planted the drugs in your bag,” he says, bracing himself for Sokka to yell at him.

Sokka just blinks. “I know,” he says, completely expressionless.

“You… know?”

“Of course I know. Who else would have done that? Besides your sister, but she doesn’t know what my bag looks like.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly surprised,” Sokka adds, which feels like a punch to the gut anyway. “I’m just… disappointed, I guess.”

“I’m really sorry,” Zuko says desperately. “I— I didn’t mean—”

“No, you did mean. You meant to get me kicked off the team,” Sokka says. “Well, congratulations. I might even get kicked out of the Academy, so—”

“I never wanted _that_ ,” Zuko adds. “I just didn’t want you playing in the final; I never wanted to jeopardize your position at the Academy, or at getting into IET—”

“Then you obviously didn’t think it through, did you?”

“I… guess not.”

“What I don’t get is how you even got your hands on—”

“It was Azula.”

“Ah,” Sokka says with a nod, like that makes perfect sense. “Well. At least you got your win.”

“But I don’t want it,” Zuko says. “I hate winning like this, it’s horrible.”

“That’s rough, buddy.”

“Look,” he adds, lowering his head, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I am really sorry I did it, and you didn’t deserve that. I— I was scared of losing, yeah, but mostly I— I was angry. At myself. For ruining things between us.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really justify what you did,” Sokka says bitterly.

“No, it doesn’t. Nothing does,” Zuko agrees. “You didn’t deserve to be hurt just because I was hurting. And I’m truly sorry for that. And I’m going to make it right, no matter what it takes.”

“I’m not really sure what you could do—”

“I’ll figure something out. I’m not going to let them expel you,” he says. “And I won’t let this stop you from getting into IET. I promise.”

“Zuko, I don’t think—”

“I swear it. I will make sure you get everything you want, everything you deserve.”

Sokka looks at him intensely for a minute before closing his eyes. He nods. “Okay. I believe you,” he says, and then opens his eyes again. “But I don’t forgive you yet.”

Zuko swallows the lump in his throat. “I know,” he says.

He watches Sokka step back and close the door in front of him, then drops his face in his hands and groans in frustration. He’s never fucked anything up this badly in his life, but he has to fix it. There’s no other choice.

If Sokka loses out on IET because of this, Zuko will never be able to forgive himself, either.

* * *

“Oh, hey,” Sokka says when he answers his door.

Katara gives him a sympathetic smile as she steps into his room. “I just wanted to see how you were doing,” she says.

He flops face-first onto his bed. “I’m great,” he says into the mattress.

“So… I guess Zuko came to talk to you, huh?” she says, perching at the edge of his bed. She nudges aside a hoodie on the floor with her foot.

Sokka lifts his head and turns onto his back. “How did you know that?”

“He, uh, he came by the party,” she says hesitantly. “He was looking for you and I told him… I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said you were here, but—”

“It’s fine,” he says with a wave of his hand. “He just came to apologize.”

“But—” Katara begins, though she’s not sure how much Sokka will be willing to tell her. “Why…”

“He’s the one who planted the drugs.”

“I mean, I figured… But I… I’m not sure why he would do that if—” She pauses again. “He seemed really concerned about you today, but if he’s that concerned, why would he have done that in the first place?”

“He was angry,” Sokka says flatly.

“At you?”

He shakes his head. “He said— Well, I think he was angry at himself. And he thought it would be easier if I was out of the picture.”

“I still don’t understand,” Katara says, shaking her head as well.

“I sort of—” he begins, then clamps his hands over his eyes. “I was sort of dating him for a while, like, since Winter term.”

“Wait, _Zuko_ is the person you were not-so-secretly dating?” she asks in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he says meekly. “He didn’t want anyone to know, he thought our teams might not appreciate it.”

“I mean… I guess I can sort of see that.”

Sokka sits up a bit, propping himself on his elbows. “But then he said we couldn’t see each other at all anymore, because it was too risky.”

“So he broke up with you?”

“Not exactly,” he says. “But he made his priorities clear, so I… I ended things a few weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry, Sokka,” Katara says sadly. “You deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said,” he adds with a sarcastic laugh. “I just thought— If I’m not going to be here next year, he’d want to spend time with me while he can, right? But I guess I wasn’t important—”

“Wait,” she cuts in. “You didn’t know you might be expelled back then, did you?”

“Oh, uh…” He sits up, scratching the back of his head nervously. “I’ve kind of been working on a, um, an application for IET?”

“IE— You mean the Institute of Elemental Technology?”

“Yeah…”

“You— You’re going to IET?” she asks incredulously. “That’s amazing!”

“Well, I’m probably not getting in,” he says. “I doubt they look kindly on people who get expelled for drug use—”

“We won’t let that happen,” she insists. “We’ll contest it if we have to—”

“It’s okay, Katara,” he says, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “Whatever happens, happens.”

“But—”

“You should go back downstairs and celebrate your win.”

“We didn’t really win—”

“You definitely won, Katara,” he says. “And you deserve it.”

“Will you at least come celebrate with us?”

He looks at her with a sad smile, and nods. “Sure.”

* * *

“Hey,” Mai says as she approaches the bench by the pond. Ty Lee looks up at her when she does. “Can I join you?”

Ty Lee smiles, but less emphatically than usual. “Yeah, of course,” she says. She scoots over on the bench to make room.

“Tired of the party?” Mai asks, taking a seat.

Ty Lee shrugs. “It’s the same as the last one, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Mai pushes the toe of her shoe into the grass by her feet. “You did a great job today, though,” she adds. “I know I said that earlier, but—”

“Thanks, Mai.” Ty Lee smiles at her again. “It, uh—” She lowers her head and fidgets with her hands clasped in her lap. “It means a lot that you came out to watch today.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Mai says quietly.

“I… I’ve missed you a lot, though,” Ty Lee adds. “And I know— I know you don’t want to be my girlfriend or anything, but could we still—”

“I do want that,” Mai cuts in, before she loses her nerve. Ty Lee looks over at her again. “I want to be your girlfriend, I just… I don’t know if I—” Mai turns her head away, embarrassed. “I don’t know if I’m good enough for you.”

“What?” Ty Lee says with a laugh of disbelief. “Mai, that’s crazy. Of course you’re good enough for me. I— I don’t even know what that means. How would you not be good enough?”

Mai tilts her head up and looks at the night sky above, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes. “You have no idea—” she begins, squeezing her eyes shut. She opens them again and faces Ty Lee. “I— I’m so— I love you so much, Ty Lee, but I feel like I can’t stop hurting you. Like I don’t trust myself not to hurt you.”

Ty Lee’s brow furrows in concern, and she places a hand over Mai’s. “What do you mean? You would never hurt me on purpose, Mai, I know that.”

“But, the way we broke up—”

“You were just scared. And I thought maybe you weren’t ready for us to be… that,” she says. “But I also know you wouldn’t have done it like that if it weren’t for Azula. It’s not like you _want_ to hurt me.”

“But what if I do?” Mai asks, her voice cracking. “Sometimes I— I think about different ways I could hurt you. Hurt everyone. What if I— What if I’m a monster?”

Ty Lee’s eyes go wide and Mai knows she’s said too much. “Mai,” Ty Lee says, squeezing her hand harder. “Do you actually _want_ to hurt people?”

“No, but— But I must be a horrible person to even think about it—”

“But you don’t want to do those things. And you don’t do them,” Ty Lee adds. “So… it’s not actually a problem, is it?”

“Well, no, I don’t do those things, but still—”

“Sometimes people think about bad stuff,” she says with a shrug. “It doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

“Do you… really think that?” Mai asks.

Ty Lee laughs. “Of course, silly,” she says. “If people were judged for the things they _thought_ about, I think that would make everyone a horrible person, wouldn’t it?”

Mai lowers her head as Ty Lee leans against her shoulder.

“What do you actually _want_ to do, Mai?” she asks.

“I… I want…” Mai says hesitantly. “I want to go with you to the Victor’s Ball.”

Ty Lee lifts her head and grins at her. “Really?” she says. “Will you let me help you pick out a dress?”

“I’m not wearing a dress,” Mai replies, trying to pout but it turns into a smile anyway.

“A suit then,” Ty Lee says, hugging Mai’s arm. “Ooh, with a tie! That would be so cute!”

“Sure.”

“We could go shopping in town tomorrow,” she continues. “Oh! Maybe the tie could match my dress! Wouldn’t that just be—” She stops when Mai leans over to rest her head against hers.

“I’d like that,” Mai says.

* * *

“The Headmaster will see you now.”

Azula smooths down the skirt of her uniform as she stands, and walks confidently through the door to her father’s office. She’s waited all year for this moment. She’s waited all year to waltz into his office and announce that she’s beaten every single loser at the Academy.

“Azula,” he says, reluctantly taking off his glasses and setting them down. He motions for her to take a seat. “What brings you here today?”

“Well, Father,” she says, sitting up straight in the chair across from him. “The final scores have been announced for this year’s Elemental Trials, and I earned the most individual points in the entire Academy.”

He blinks at her slowly. “And?” he says. His reaction surprises her.

“And I thought you’d want to know that,” she says, trying to keep the hesitation out of her voice. “I know it’s important to you for your children to—”

“It’s important for my children to _excel_ ,” he snaps. “You may have scored the most points this year, but I’ve seen the results and it is paltry. I earned more points in my first year, and frankly, I expected more from you.”

“But—”

“And considering that you lost your position as captain to your joke of a brother, I wouldn’t go around boasting if I were you.”

The ground is ripped out from below Azula’s feet and she’s falling without a parachute. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to be proud of her accomplishments. He was supposed to congratulate her, for once, on her success.

It was supposed to be enough this time.

“The competition was tough this year, Father,” she tries. “The fact that I managed to score as many points as I did is still—”

“You barely scored more points than your brother,” he says. “Perhaps you’re not as impressive as you think you are.”

Azula clenches her hands into fists in her lap and tries to keep her expression cool and dispassionate. “You’re right, Father,” she says tersely. “I apologize.”

She gets up to leave, but her father calls for her when she reaches the door. She turns to look back at him.

“I expect you to do better next year,” he says.

She nods solemnly and heads out the door, not letting her hands shake until she’s passed through the office and out into the hallway. She leans her back against the wall and looks around for something she can set on fire. That’s when she spots Zuko walking up from the other end of the hall.

“What are you doing here?” she asks gruffly when he approaches.

“I— I need to speak to the Headmaster,” he says.

“I doubt Father wants to see you right now.”

“Well, that’s too bad, because this is important.” He pushes past her and into the office, and she watches the door close slowly behind him.

Perhaps Zuko was right, after all.

They are both pathetic losers.

* * *

The Headmaster sighs wearily when Zuko walks into his office. “What did I ever do to deserve this?” he grumbles.

Zuko ignores him and steps up to his desk without taking a seat. “You can’t expel Sokka,” he says.

“Who?” the Headmaster asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“From the Water School,” Zuko explains. “He was caught with performance-enhancing drugs and he has a hearing next week, but—”

“The his fate will be decided at the hearing, then, case closed.”

“You can’t expel him because it wasn’t his fault,” Zuko adds. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I framed him. I’m the one who put the drugs in his bag so that he would get removed from the team for the final match. It’s my fault he’s in this situation, and if anyone should be expelled, it’s me.”

His father finally looks up at him, though Zuko can’t read his expression. “You framed him?” he asks.

“Yes,” Zuko says hesitantly. “I only wanted to get him off the team, but it was wrong of me, and—”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

Zuko stops and blinks at him. “Uh, well, it was Azula’s idea—”

“Of course it was,” his father says. “You are far too weak to come up with a plan this devious.”

“But I’m the one who carried it out so I should take all the blame,” Zuko says. “Don’t punish Azula for it, and definitely don’t punish Sokka—”

“Why do you care if the Water School boy gets punished? You won, didn’t you? It seems the plan worked out in your favour.”

“Well— Yes, but—”

“As long as no one else finds out,” the Headmaster continues, “then the Fire School can keep its victory. It’s not worth losing for the first time in a hundred years over something like this.”

“But— I _framed_ him—”

“Quite an ingenious plan, I’ll have to hand it to your sister,” he says, stroking a hand over his beard.

“You can’t be serious,” Zuko says, practically squawking. “You’re just going to let an innocent student get punished for my mistakes—”

“This isn’t about _you_ , Zuko. This is about your School,” the Headmaster says. “If you come forward with this, it will invalidate the Fire School’s victory and lose everyone’s respect for the School.”

“You think people _respect_ the Fire School?” Zuko says. “Everyone else _hates_ us. They think we’re all horrible, selfish monsters, and now I see why.”

“You’re being a bit overdramatic—”

“And you’re a terrible Headmaster, and even worse father!” he shouts. “And you’re bad at golf!”

“Zuko—” his father says, like a warning.

“Why did I even want your approval?” Zuko mutters, mostly to himself, as he drags his hands through his hair. “If this is where your priorities are, I— I don’t want anything to do with you!”

Zuko storms out of the office, slamming the door along the way, and nearly smashes into the wall on the other side of the hallway when he doesn’t slow down. He braces himself against the wall with both hands and tries to calm himself, before he sets something on fire.

He expected to be punished for this—he deserved to be punished, even expelled. And he was willing to face that in order for Sokka’s name to be cleared. But if the Headmaster won’t let him own up to his actions, then he’ll have to find a way to do it himself.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates today. Make sure you read chapter 11 first.
> 
> Thanks for making it to the final chapter of this fic! If you stuck around this far, I commend you.

Sokka wasn’t sure he should come to the Victor’s Ball tonight, but Katara insisted. He’s not even sure if she wanted to come, but it’s important to the rest of the team that she be there. This victory is as much theirs as it is the Fire School’s—maybe even more so.

They go to the ball with Suki and Aang, and Sokka jokingly says it’s like a double date, but the girls are quick to make it clear that it very much is _not_. He gives Aang a consoling pat on the shoulder, while trying not to laugh. Sokka does get in a couple dances with Suki, though, and she complains about his lack of coordination the entire time.

“How can you be so good at playing Avatar and so bad at this?” she grumbles when he steps on her foot for the third time.

“You know, studies show that playing Avatar and dancing are actually _different_ things,” he says mockingly. “Some say the data is inconclusive, but there have been some remarkable breakthroughs in the field recently—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” she says with a laugh.

The music winds down for the victory speech, and they return to their table with Aang and Katara to sit through it, grudgingly.

“Uh, hello—” Zuko says into the microphone, causing some awful feedback. He tentatively tries again. “Um. Hi. So.”

Sokka tries not to find it endearing that he’s so awkward and bad at public speaking. He’s still pissed at the guy.

“This year’s victory was a close one,” Zuko continues, and a few people cheer, though Sokka’s not sure what for. “All the Schools competed hard; any one of them deserved to win.” He pauses and takes an audible breath. “Except the Fire School.”

Confused muttering breaks out in the Central Dining Hall, which has been decorated for the occasion.

“Maybe we could have deserved to win, if we had come by it honourably,” he says. “But I cheated and lied and hurt people to get here, and in doing so, I let my School down.”

Katara gives Sokka a concerned look and he shrugs. He’s not sure why this is happening either.

“I let all the Schools down,” Zuko adds. “I lost sight of myself and what the Academy stands for, and I let frustration and my desire to win get in the way.

“I don’t want my team to suffer for my actions, but at the same time, we cannot accept this victory,” he continues. “The Water School would have rightfully won had I not interfered—and had I not harmed people in order to do so.”

“Wow, I can’t believe he’s actually doing this—” Suki says, but Sokka shushes her so he can hear the rest of Zuko’s speech.

“I went to the administration to own up for what I’ve done,” Zuko says. “And I was told it was better this way. That it would be selfish of me to try to put things right, instead of staying loyal to my School. But I don’t want to owe loyalty to a School that would let me get away with something like this. So I’m asking you all, please, to make sure I get what I deserve.”

One confused person starts clapping but stops abruptly when no one joins in.

“And I want to make sure the Water School gets what they deserve,” Zuko adds. He squints out at the audience. “Is Katara here?”

“She’s over here!” Sokka says excitedly, jumping out of his seat to point at his sister.

Zuko looks over at them. “Katara, would you like to come up here? I think it’s time for a real victory speech.”

* * *

Katara nearly falls forward when she stands, because Sokka gives her a push towards the makeshift stage at the side of the dining hall, but Aang catches her by the arm so she regains her balance.

“Sorry,” Sokka whispers loudly, and she swats him away.

She makes her way up to where Zuko is standing and accepts the microphone from him. She thanks him quietly and he nods before stepping off-stage.

“Hi, everyone,” she says, and she hears Sokka, Aang, and Suki whoop for her over in the corner. “It… It means a lot to be able to stand here today,” she begins slowly. She can feel the microphone shaking in her hand as everyone’s eyes land on her.“To have our accomplishments recognized, even in this rather unofficial capacity. Because the Water School worked really hard for this.

“But more than that,” she continues, “all the Schools worked really hard for this. The Air and Earth Schools deserve this win just as much as we do. We learned so much from each other this year, and in doing so it made us stronger. And maybe… Maybe no one School is better than the others. We all have different strengths, even on an individual level.”

She pauses to collect her thoughts, and Sokka whoops again before someone—probably Suki—shuts him up.

“My brother, Sokka,” Katara adds with a small laugh, “he was one of the best players on the team, even though he’s, uh, not that great at waterbending—Sorry, Sokka, we still love you.”

The audience laughs too.

“But it shows that if we all use our different strengths and work together, we can do some amazing things,” she says. “It’s… kind of a shame that the different Schools are encouraged to fight against each other rather than work with each other. Imagine how much better all of us could be if we listened to an outside perspective once in a while.”

She looks over in the direction of her friends, and smiles at Aang. “By keeping all the elements separate, talented students, like my friend Aang, aren’t even allowed to participate. Why should knowing different forms of bending be a bad thing? Why isn’t it celebrated?”

“Hear, hear,” Sokka shouts, and a few people cheer in agreement.

“I know we can’t control how the Academy is run,” she adds. “We don’t make the rules. But together we can decide if we’re going to follow them or not, can’t we?”

There are more supportive cheers, even though she can tell by people’s faces that not everyone in the audience is in agreement with her. Some are even giving her that look. That _“you think you’re so special”_ look that she’s more than familiar with. But that’s not stopping her today.

“Zuko asked us to make sure he gets what he deserves,” she says. “But we need to make sure we all get what we deserve. No matter which team is declared the winner at the end of the day, all the Schools—all four of them—worked hard, and are equally deserving of that funding for next year. None of us deserve to be left behind.”

Katara takes a steadying breath before adding, “I will do whatever it takes to make sure of it.”

* * *

Azula notices Zuko trying to slip out through one of the side doors, so she quickly inserts herself in his path to confront him. “What was all of that for?” she asks him. “Suddenly developed a conscience?”

“I’ve always had a conscience,” he says, “I was just ignoring it for a while. It didn’t go well.”

“But why go through all of this?” she says with a wave of her hand. “Why make a spectacle of yourself?”

“Because maybe this way they’ll actually _listen_. Maybe things will actually be put right, for a change.”

“Are you saying you actually believe this is for the best?”

He closes his eyes briefly and sighs through his nose. “Yes,” he says impatiently. “Winning isn’t everything, it’s not worth losing the— The people who matter to me.”

“What about your teammates? Don’t they matter to you?” Azula asks.

“Of course they matter! But I’m tired of lying and hurting people I care about—”

“Oh, but you don’t mind hurting me, is that it?” she says before she can think better of it.

“I— What? How is this hurting you? Other than a bruise to your ego because our team might not win after all—”

“Father will be pissed at you,” she adds as she feels her temper flare up.

“He always is,” Zuko points out. “Trying to live up to his expectations is pointless. He cares more about the School’s reputation than his own children—”

“That’s not true!” Azula snaps. “Maybe he doesn’t care about _you_ , but—” She stops herself. She’s tired of lying too. “Fine,” she concedes. “Maybe he doesn’t care at all.”

“You’ll drive yourself crazy trying to please him,” he says. “I think I’ve finally realized that.”

“Right,” she says tersely. “Well. Enjoy your moral high ground while the rest of us rot under the bus, then.”

He frowns at her. “I’m not throwing you under the bus, Azula. For one thing, I’m going to accept full responsibility for framing Sokka, so you won’t get in any trouble—”

“You think I care about that?”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you only bother spending time with me when you feel bad about something,” she says angrily. “You think I’m so far beneath you that you can only be in my presence if you feel you’ve done something horrible enough to deserve it!”

“I…” He looks at her, surprised and confused. “I don’t—”

“Don’t deny it, you’ve said it yourself; everyone hates me.”

“Well, you seem to prefer it that way,” he says. “Why else do you push everyone away and treat them like dirt?”

“If they’re going to hate me anyway, then why should I bother making nice—”

“Oh,” he says, like something has suddenly clicked into place. “You reject people before they can reject you. That’s what it is—”

“That is not what it is, you stupid—”

“Aww.” He gives her a patronizing smile. “You’re just as scared as the rest of us, that’s so cute.”

“I am _not_ —”

“I really have to go talk to someone, though, so I leave you to figure things out,” he adds, and he gives her a pat on the head, messing up her hair, as he walks away.

She smooths her hair out hastily, scowling. He has no idea what he’s talking about, obviously. Azula certainly is not scared.

And she certainly didn’t feel any spark of joy from that idiotic signal of brotherly affection just now. That would be ridiculous.

* * *

“Are you having fun?” Ty Lee asks as she and Mai take a seat on a bench at the side of the hall. Ty Lee had managed to get Mai up for a couple of dances, but she felt she had made enough of a fool of herself for the time being.

Mai gives her a small smile. “I am, yeah,” she says. “I mean, I hate dancing, but—”

“I’m sorry,” Ty Lee says quickly. “I shouldn’t make you do things you don’t like—”

“You didn’t _make_ me do anything,” Mai tells her. “You dragged me up there because I _let_ you. Because I knew you would like it.”

“But you don’t have to do things just for me…”

“I know,” she says, holding her hand open on her knee for Ty Lee to take it. She does. “But I want to.”

Ty Lee squeezes her hand, smiling shyly. “I like your suit, by the way,” she says, leaning into Mai’s shoulder.

“I should hope so,” Mai says. “You picked it out.”

“Yeah, but, I mean, it looks so good on you. You’re so pretty.”

Mai wrinkles her nose and Ty Lee looks up at her. “I’m not pretty,” she says.

“Oh my god, what?” Ty Lee squeals, sitting up to get a better look at her. “Are you kidding me? You’re, like, the prettiest girl here!”

“I don’t need to be pretty, you know,” Mai says. “There are more important things.”

“Of course there are more important things. That doesn’t make it not true.” Ty Lee smiles wider. “And I think it’s important that I like looking at you, you know.”

“Ugh, stop,” Mai says, covering her face with her hand as she starts blushing. Ty Lee leans in and makes kissy faces at her and she laughs a little.

“Sorry for interrupting,” says a voice above them. They look up to see Azula standing in front of them.

“O—Oh, hi, Azula,” Ty Lee says.

“Hey,” Mai says flatly, her mood markedly dampened.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” Azula says, in her usual clipped tone. But then her expression softens. “Um, which is good,” she adds. “I mean, you two are… good together.”

“We know that,” Mai says. “No thanks to you.”

“Yes, well. I— I’m sorry about that,” Azula says, her hands folded in front of her. “I… shouldn’t have tried to come between you all year. That was…” She swallows like this is the hardest thing she’s ever had to say. “Wrong of me.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“I am trying to apologize, here,” Azula snaps, and Mai raises an eyebrow at her. “Right, um, sorry. I was just saying… I shouldn’t have done that, but I— I was jealous. You were spending a lot of time without me, and I— You’re my only friends, and—”

“Azula—” Ty Lee says as she starts to stand, but Mai holds her hand to encourage her to stay. Mai wasn’t about to let this become _let’s feel bad for Azula_ hour. There’s been enough of that in her lifetime.

“Anyway,” Azula adds. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry. Goodnight.” She gives them an awkward half-bow before turning to leave.

“Wait,” Mai says, and Azula faces them again. “Do you wanna sit with us? We could make fun of people’s outfits together.”

Azula smiles a little. “I’d like that.”

* * *

Sokka isn’t in the last place Zuko saw him, sitting in the corner of the dining hall, and Zuko hasn’t been able to find him anywhere else, either. He’s not sure if he just keeps missing him, or if Sokka’s already left. He’s tried so hard to un-ruin things for Sokka, but maybe he just made everything worse.

“I told you,” a voice rings out from behind him, “it’s not the same thing as playing Avatar!”

Zuko spins around to see Sokka walking over with his friends from the vicinity of the dance floor. His Earth School friend has her arm draped over his shoulders as he supports her; she’s limping a little. They all stop when they see Zuko standing there.

“Uh, hi,” Zuko says with an awkward wave. “Are, um, are you okay?”

“Who, me? I’m fiiiiine,” the girl says, extremely sarcastically.

“I accidentally stepped on her toes,” Sokka says.

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Zuko mumbles.

“You _crushed_ my foot,” the girl insists as Sokka helps her over to a chair.

“I did not _crush_ your foot, you big baby,” he says. “Admit it, you’re pretending it’s worse than it is so I would carry you.”

“How dare you, sir,” she says, and then breaks out in a smile. They both laugh.

Zuko feels a twinge of jealousy that he’ll never get that sort of friendship as Sokka’s ex, with everything he’s done. When he realizes Katara is watching him watch them, he lowers his head shyly.

“So…” Sokka says as he ambles back over to him. “That was some speech, huh?”

Zuko’s face heats with embarrassment. “Uh, can we… talk?” he asks, and Sokka just stares at him for a minute, like he’s determining whether or not he’d going to allow it.

“Yeah, alright,” he says finally, then leads the way out of the dining hall into the much quieter corridor outside. “So,” he adds, stopping next to a window and crossing his arms. “Talk.”

Zuko finds his position all too familiar. “I just… want to apologize again,” he begins. “And I— I did all of this to show you that I meant what I said. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure your name is cleared and you get into IET. I’ll show up at their Admissions office myself, if I have to, and tell them—”

“Okay, I get it,” Sokka says, holding up a hand to stop Zuko’s rambling. “I… appreciate what you’ve done, although I certainly hope a symbolic speech isn’t the entire extent of your plan to make things right.”

“No, I— I’m going to tell the Board,” Zuko says. “I have to take this over my father’s head if anything is going to be done. I never thought… I just, I don’t know why I spent so many years trying to make him proud when he’s nothing but a liar anyway.”

“Maybe he should be the one trying to make you proud,” Sokka says, and Zuko can’t tell if it’s a joke or not, but he laughs lightly.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Look,” Sokka adds, relaxing his stance, “it was a really shitty thing to do, but I think we both know that.”

“Definitely.”

“And you were under a lot of pressure, as the captain and the Headmaster’s son, whatever. And that sucks. It doesn’t make it okay to _plant drugs in my bag_ , but it still sucks. I get that.”

“Sokka, I’ll understand if you can’t ever forgive me. I just want to make things right again,” Zuko says. “You belong at IET, and I won’t let my selfishness hold you back anymore.”

“Well, getting the Board to drop my case will help a lot,” Sokka says, rubbing the back of his head. “But, uh, if you really want to help me get into IET, I think I might know of a way that you could make it up to me.”

Zuko eyes him questioningly. “Oh?”

Sokka reaches out and slaps him on the shoulder. “But you might end up getting soaked.”

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

“I think this term will be good,” Katara says, hunching over her laptop. “I mean, it’s only the first week, so we’ll see, but I like my classes so far.”

“Mm, yeah, that’s great, Katara,” Sokka says through the screen, though he’s clearly distracted by something on his phone.

She carries on anyway. “I’m kind of sad that I got fast-tracked into Level 3 Waterbending, though,” she says. “It means Aang isn’t in my class this year.”

“Yeah, poor kid.”

“I just mean he’s fun to have around. Though I miss having you in my class, too.”

He looks up at that. “Really?” he says.

“No one in the class is as funny as you were,” she says with a laugh.

“Hey, I _meant_ to dump all that water on myself—”

“Sure, sure.”

Sokka pouts jokingly. “Rude,” he says, and then glances down at his phone again.

“Speaking of rude…” Katara adds, and he looks up sheepishly.

“Right, sorry,” he says. “You were talking about life at the Academy without me. Continue.”

“Well, like I said, I like my classes, and it helps that we got the Schools the extra funding, but mostly I’m excited to see if my proposal gets approved,” she says.

“For the mixed training group?”

“Yeah. I know they aren’t going to let a mixed team compete in the Trials this year—though I’m definitely going to push for it for next year—but mixed training would be a great opportunity for people from any School.”

“I totally agree,” he says, though she can see he’s itching to check his phone again.

“What about you?” she asks, because she’s not about to let him off the hook that easily. “How was your first week?”

“I mean, it’s been pretty good,” he says, bobbing his head, “but, Katara, everyone here is such a _nerd_.”

“I thought that was a good thing,” she says. “Nerd power, remember?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to sound smart around these people!”

“Is… that really a new thing?”

He glares at her through the screen, though really he glares slightly downward, where her face must be on his laptop. “Oh, how you do flatter me, Katara,” he says in a monotone, and she laughs.

“Look, your ideas are brilliant—sometimes—no matter how you sound, right?”

“But no one’s going to call me the Hack Guy here!” he whines.

“No one _should_ call you that,” she says. “It’s a horrible nickname.”

He pouts again. “You’re just jealous.”

“Right,” she says, rolling her eyes. Though when she looks back at him, she sees him distracted his phone again. “Does this mean I should let you go?” she asks, an eyebrow raised.

“What?” He looks up sheepishly. “No, I just— I was—“

“It’s fine,” Katara says, her nose in the air. “I have homework anyway, so—”

“Really? Thanks! You’re the best sister ever!”

“Say hi to Zuko for me,” she adds in a singsong voice.

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, pretending to be offended. “I, too, am off to do homework. Much homework. All the homework.”

“Bye, Sokka,” she says, rolling her eyes again.

“Okay, byeeeeee—”

* * *

Sokka switches his video call over to Zuko as soon as he hangs up on Katara. It takes a few rings for Zuko to pick up, despite the fact that they’ve been texting for the past hour.

“I thought you were supposed to be talking to your sister,” is the first thing Zuko says.

“She ditched me to do homework, can you believe it?” Sokka replies.

“Mm-hmm. If you say so.”

“Are you saying you’d rather I didn’t call?” he teases. “That you also wanted to do homework instead of talk to me?”

Zuko smiles a little. “Never,” he says. “Although I do actually have a lot of home—”

“A-ta-ta—This is a no-homework zone right now, mister.”

“Okay, okay,” Zuko says, holding up his hands in surrender. The he leans in, like he’s trying to get a closer look at the screen. “Why does your room look so tidy?” he says, squinting.

Sokka glances back over his shoulder and laughs. “Oh, that’s my roommate’s side,” he says. “Trust me, my half of the room is an actual disaster.”

“Good, I would expect no less.”

Sokka unhooks his leg from the armrest of his chair and crosses it over his other leg, on the desk. “Whoops, I think I just shook the camera,” he says, reaching out to steady his laptop.

“You did,” Zuko says, keeping his eyes shut for a moment.

Sokka winces. He knows Zuko hates when the camera shakes; it makes him dizzy. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“God, imagine we went through all of that to get our relationship back together, and I go and ruin everything by being too fidgety for video calls,” Sokka jokes.

“There’s no amount of fidgeting in the world that could drive me away.”

“Oh, really? What if—”

“Do not test that, though,” Zuko adds, and Sokka laughs.

“Okay, okay,” Sokka says. “Just… Tell me about life at the Academy? Is it dull and dreary without me?”

“Yes,” Zuko says, with a seriousness that surprises Sokka a little. “Look, I know you liked to joke that the Academy was going to be ‘stuck’ with you, or whatever,” he continues. “But we were lucky to have you at all. You know that, right?”

“Hah.”

“You know, for someone with an overinflated ego, you sure have some low self-esteem.”

“Okay, first of all, _ouch_ ,” Sokka says, but they’re both laughing. “And second of all, I think your perspective might be a bit skewed on the matter, since you were the only one there receiving my world-class smooches.”

Zuko snorts.

“Excuse you!”

“No, no, you’re great, it’s just—” he says, holding in laughter. “Why did you say it like that?”

“What, ‘world-class smooches’?”

“That is the stupidest way you could have phrased it.”

“What about ‘award-winning mouth moves’—” Sokka suggests, and Zuko groans through his laughter.

“Okay, I’ve learned my lesson,” he says, covering his face with his hands. “It was wrong of me to use a superlative; that’s like begging you to challenge me.”

“And don’t you forget it, pal.”

“Ughhh, I’m rethinking everything,” Zuko says through his hands.

“Oh, does that mean you are going to run for team captain this year?” Sokka teases, taking advantage of the opportunity to steer the conversation away from his own issues.

Zuko lowers his hands and sighs. “No, I’m still not doing that,” he says. “It’s too much pressure and I— I don’t need that in my life right now.”

Sokka grimaces. “Does that mean Azula’s gonna snag it again?”

“Uh, no, I think she’s taking a bit of a step back this year, too.”

“That… is surprising.”

“Well, once you realize that your own father will never give a shit about your success, you stop pushing for it quite so hard,” Zuko says, a bitter edge to his voice.

“Good point.”

“What about you?” he asks, his voice softening. “Are you joining any teams or anything this year? I don’t even know what they have there. Are there Trials?”

“No, actually, we get tested on our knowledge and abilities with exams and assignments, like a real school.”

“Weird.”

“I know, right? But, anyway, I don’t know if I’m gonna join anything this year. There’s a chess team, but—”

“How do you play chess as a team?” Zuko asks.

“You know, maybe I should join just so I can find out—”

The door to Sokka’s room flies open, startling him, and he looks over to see his roommate thundering in, with big headphones on. He doesn’t seem to notice Sokka there at all.

Sokka looks back at Zuko and shrugs before trying to get his roommate’s attention. “Um, hi?” he says, but the roommate doesn’t hear him. “Jeff!” he says louder, nearly yelling, and his roommate startles as well.

“Oh, hey,” Jeff says, taking off his headphones as he turns to face Sokka. “Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Sokka says with an apologetic smile. “Is it cool if I have, like, ten more minutes?”

“Oh, uh, sure, yeah,” Jeff says, picking up the bag he just dumped onto his desk. He looks back over towards Sokka and then squints at the laptop past his head. “Is that… the guy from the video?”

“Uhhhhh—” Sokka holds that note for longer than necessary while he thinks of the best way to respond.

Because, yes, Zuko is the guy from the video.

As his way of making things up to Sokka, Zuko agreed to help with Sokka’s application to IET—specifically the video of his _creative solution_ in action. Katara helped as well, since she actually managed to make it work, which meant Sokka got to spend the afternoon laughing as Katara dumped water from the air onto Zuko’s hands to extinguish his flame—and she may have managed to soak him a couple of times as well. And Sokka, thorough as he is, insisted they do many takes, to make sure he got footage from all the best angles.

Something about Zuko willingly making himself look like a drowned rat just to help Sokka get into the school of his dreams made it a lot easier to forgive him.

“You _showed people_ the video?” Zuko asks.

“It was _funny_ , okay—”

“It’s bad enough the admissions people had to see it—”

“If it’s any consolation, dude,” Jeff says, leaning in towards the laptop screen, “your comedic timing was excellent.”

“See?” Sokka says to Zuko cheerfully, gesturing at his roommate. “You’re a natural at getting drenched!”

Zuko pouts. “I’m flattered,” he says, though the corner of hismouth twitches a little and Sokka can tell he also finds it kind of funny. “I really do have homework, though,” he adds, “but we’re gonna talk about this later—”

“Okay, love you, byeeeeee,” Sokka says as he slowly closes the laptop.

He gets a text from Zuko immediately.

_“Love you too, you idiot.”_

* * *

As Zuko walks into the central platform of the Air School arena, he feels a calm wash over him. This year is going to be different. This year is going to be better. Training alongside players from all the other Schools is exactly what he needs to rid himself of the toxic _“Fire School is the only School that matters”_ mindset his father had instilled in him from a young age.

He walks in alongside Ty Lee, who waves at Mai watching from the stands.

“Things are still good with you two?” he asks Ty Lee, who smiles at him broadly.

“Oh, yeah, we’re great now,” she says.

“Is she… jealous about you being on the team, though?”

“No, we talked about it and she said she prefers watching me play instead,” Ty Lee explains.

Zuko’s eyebrows go up. “Well, yeah, the uniform shorts are pretty short—”

“Not like that!” she says with a laugh, wide-eyed, as she swats him in the arm.

“Uh huh.” He looks over at Mai and gives her a nod. She nods back.

They gather up with the others in the centre of the arena. There are players from all the schools—not every player, but there are still plenty of them interested in trying this out. He recognizes several of them as people he’s competed against in the past, and feels a bit embarrassed to be here. To think he deserves to share space with them.

He never really got the full punishment he felt he deserved, after what he did, what with his father pulling strings—for the reputation of the family, assuredly, and not for Zuko’s sake. But the other students didn’t protest it either. It seems they appreciated his honesty. Which is definitely something he’s going to keep in mind.

He spots Katara and she gives him a small wave. She was less quick to forgive him than Sokka was—and he doesn’t blame her—but the fact that he’s been good to Sokka ever since is slowly winning her over.

He recognizes some people from the Earth School, like Sokka’s ex, and the old team captain. Zuko’s pretty sure he’s not captain this year, though. Seems a lot of people have been stepping down lately.

Zuko and Ty Lee make their way further into the group as everyone clusters around Katara and her friend, Aang. Sokka says he’s a super-genius or something; he can bend all the elements, so naturally he’ll be a great leader for the group. While Aang is still busy talking to someone, the Earth School girl comes up to Zuko and offers him a friendly handshake.

“I’m Suki,” she says, smiling in a way he doesn’t quite trust. “I’m Sokka’s ex-girlfriend.”

“I know,” he replies as he hesitantly shakes her hand. “I’m Zuko, Sokka’s ex-ex-boyfriend.”

Her eyes narrow. “I know,” she says. She yanks his hand so he has to hunch down to eye level with her, still smiling. “And if you ever do anything shitty to Sokka again, I will end you.”

Zuko swallows. “Uh, yeah, that’s fair,” he says, and she lets go, smiling at him for real.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” she adds, and pats him on the shoulder. She stands at his side, opposite from Ty Lee, and then leans in a little, cupping her hand over her mouth to whisper to him. “Who’s your friend, by the way?” she says, in a tone that suggests she’s trying to be discreet, but is failing miserably. “She’s cute.”

“She’s taken,” he mutters back to her, mildly amused.

“Ah, nuts,” she says, no longer whispering. “You know,” she adds conspiratorially, “with Sokka abandoning us for IET, I’m in need of a new wingman. Interested?”

“Uh, what would I have to do?”

“Can’t tell you that until you accept the job.”

“Um. Sure?”

“Sweet.” She pats him on the shoulder again before Katara calls for everyone’s attention.

“We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today, people!” Katara says, loud enough to be heard over the chatter. “Aang is gonna walk us through how this is all going to work, so pay attention!”

Everyone quiets and turns to face the kid standing nervously at the centre of the arena.

“Uh, right, so,” he begins, standing as tall as his stature will allow. “The thing about the different elements is that they’re actually all connected…”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as [f-ing-ruthless-baz](https://f-ing-ruthless-baz.tumblr.com/). Come say hi!


End file.
